Dragon Age: Final Hour: Original
by Flamewing80
Summary: The fall of Elvhenan is finally revealed. Unrest has festered between the elven gods for centuries. Where once there was only friendship, now only hatred remains. One among them sees the path they are destined to fall down and races to save all that he loves from destruction. Mistakes are made and sorrows engraved. Follow Solas back to uncover the truth about his past.
1. Prologue: Edge of the Past

**Disclaimer:** Dragon Age is owned by Bioware and EA games.

**Warning: **There are spoilers from _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ in this book, some pretty big ones. If you don't want to see them, then don't read this book. The spoilers involve only two characters in the game and for the sake of not spoiling it here I won't say who they are. The character I placed here is Solas just because he is the main character of the story as you will see going forward. Just know you have been warned that there are huge spoilers from the ending of the game (and sort of the middle in the prologue alone).

**Note to readers: **Dragon Age is by far my favorite series done by bioware. For a long time I had been toying with the idea for this fan-fiction and with all we learned in _Inquisition_ I can finally write this story. After seeing the complete story, I found the character that I wanted to write about. It's the way I work with fan-factions, I guess. I pick the character I want to know more about and start to write about them.

I am going off of the notes I found on the wiki and the banter between the party as well as his dialogue. There is actually quite a bit hinting at his past if you get the right dialogue between Cole and Solas. I think it's only if you have a bad breakup with Solas though.

Also, for the prologue, I did go more with my Inquisitor than anything else. Female, elf who did romance Solas, I couldn't get the prologue to work without having the Inquisitor there… though it was brief. And, yes, I did copy some of the lines from the game for the first part of the prologue. It is all that I am taking for it. After the prologue the Inquisitor won't even be reappearing.

I hope you enjoy this story.  
Thank you,

Flame

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Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Prologue: Edge of the Past

A soft snow had started to fall over the tents and scattered remains of the Inquisition. Fire light flickered. Solas sat alone at the edge of the camp, listening as the advisors bickered among themselves. His eyes were half closed as he listened to them. There was no telling where the group would go from here, but they were still the best shot that Solas had.

Despite this fact the Inquisition was already starting to facture after one lose. Granted it had been a heavy lose. He took a deep breath of the crisp air punctured by the acidic scent of the fires. His eyes closed. In the mists of all this despair, he had no desire to dream. His thoughts where with the herald who now lay unconscious as the advisors bickered over what to do next.

This wasn't going to solve anything, but it was far, far from his place to suggest what to do next. He opened his eyes. The night was cold. The snow floated down towards him and his breath rose in a fine mist. Solas watched the snow, his thoughts turning over what had happened in Haven. At least he knew now that the orb was still in Corypheus's hands. Though, that had been obvious from the very beginning.

She had a right to know the orb was of their people. And that the fall out of this knowledge might just destroy the trust the humans were showing in her. Solas glanced again the direction of the tent where she lay. He noted the fact she was now sitting up and speaking with the Mother.

For a moment she looked towards the three advisors then she was looking back at the Mother. As he watched, she stood and moved away from Mother Giselle, head bowed and gaze almost lost. Solas watched her from the shadows. Here, in the mists of despair, even she looked as if she was ready to give up. It wasn't an expression he had come to recognize on her.

Solas noted the fact the advisors had fallen silent. The air was heavy with the despair and hopelessness. The Herald stopped and glanced around. There was pain and hopelessness in her eyes as well. His heart twisted a little at the sight.

Then one voice rose above the crackling fire. Solas looked away from her and towards the Mother. Her head was bowed, voice soft; yet, strong and loud enough even he could come make out the words from where he sat far from them.

Solas stood, watchful and curious. Mother Giselle stopped by the herald's side. Liliana took up the words of the unfamiliar song next. Then, one by one the humans moved in towards Mother Giselle and the Herald, their voices joining with one another's and rising strong into the night.

Solas shifted and moved a little closer. He kept his expression blank as he looked on. There was a wonder in this moment. All he had seen over the years had pointed to the fact humans looked down upon elves as second class or lower. Now, here they were rising up one of the People as the hero and savior needed to bring hope to this moment, hope to the world in the darkest of hours.

As the words rose higher into the night, the members of the Inquisition bowed to the Herald. Solas watched on, leaning against his staff. The world was a curious place. After so many centuries the humans were looking to an elf instead of to one of their own. There was no denying her natural ability to lead and the hope she did bring to all of them. In the same moment, this was dangerous. As more of the truth came to light, it could destroy everything now. If all of it came to light, there would be no one to blame but himself. But she needed to know. She had a right to know the orb was an artifact of the People.

This much Solas could reveal to her. The rest? He doubted he could ever reveal that to anyone. He moved, silent so as not to disturb the singing and the hope which the words seemed to be bringing the humans.

The last word seemed to reverberate through the air. Laughter and cries of joy followed soon after. Solas moved closer to her as Mother Giselle spoke a few more words to the Herald. He watched until the Mother had moved off before coming up behind her.

He paused only long to ask, "A word?" before he moved off away from the crowd of happy humans. The only sign that she had followed was the sound of her boots crunching against the fresh snow.

They came to the very edge of the camp where a lone torch stood unlit. Here they could speak without fear of being overheard. He stopped near the torch and waved his hand, lighting it for both the light and warmth before he turned. Sure enough she had followed.

"The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting," he started as more of a way to gather his thoughts on how to best to tell her. He looked away from her and out across the dark landscape. "The faith is hard-won, Lethallan, worthy of pride," – he hesitated – "save one detail."

She moved closer, stopping near to him. The light of the blue fire caught her eyes and the angles of her face. It caused her hair to gleam and shimmer. There were signs of her struggles against Corypheus in the shadows under eyes. But the hopelessness he had seen in them was gone, replaced now by a deep curiosity.

"The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carried? It is ours," he told her, voice steady and betraying nothing more than this fact. It wasn't a simple truth. He watched her for a reaction to this information.

Her expression didn't change, though he could see her interest peek by this information.

"Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave. We must find out how he survived." The next words were what he truly wanted her to prepare for, "And we must prepare for their reaction, when they learn the orb is of our people."

There was a long moment of silence. Solas could see the debate going on behind her eyes as she thought on this new information. If she had been anyone else she wouldn't have paused to think on this one. She would have just dismissed this as something that would threaten her position among the humans or tried to shake this off as a joke. But that wasn't the woman he had come to know.

"What is it, and how do you know about it?" she asked, eyes intent as she looked at him.

These were the questions he had expected from her. Solas was more than happy to hear them even if he couldn't give all of the answers he had to her. Not yet, at least. At the very least he could frame the response to one expected of a man who spent most of his time wandering the Fade.

"Such things were foci, said to channel the power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire. But however Corypheus came to it, the orb _is_ elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith."

He let his words sink in. She looked away from him, frowning. Whatever she said next would show him if she understood the situation they were now in or not. If she did understand than there was far more to her than he originally believe. If not… he left that thought alone.

In the past this very same orb had been wielded to help their people. Now, because of his foolishness, it was turned on their people. Without this threat the humans would never have raised one of the People so high. Yet, it could be undone far more easily than it had been won.

There were many secrets best left buried, both around this orb and around himself. The blood which had been spilled back then might just end up paling in comparison to what Corypheus now brought down upon them, but it was still the blood that Solas had to live with. Too much was at stake now to repeat the mistakes of the past.

*~ Thousands of Years Ago ~*

The raw scent of blood and decay was hung thick in the air. It intermixed with the scent of burnt flesh.

Solas gasped, coughing as the ash struck his dry throat. He stirred. The ash shook from his robes as he managed to prop himself up. His wounds still burned. The tattered remains of his robes were stained with ash, his blood, and the blood of those he had been fighting. He blinked ash and blood from eyes.

Solas shuddered as he forced himself to his knees, legs tucked under him now. The once white furs of his robes had changed to shades of gray, black, and red. That was where the fur and robes hadn't been slashed or burnt away. Somehow the bone of the lower jaw of a wolf he wore was still in one-piece. He gritted his teeth and clutched his side. Warm blood greeted his fingers.

By all rights he should be dead. If he had been like other elves, he knew he would be dead right now. He forced himself to his feet. As Solas straightened, he felt his entire body go stiff with shock.

Corpses smoldered on a ground scorched black. Those who had fought alongside Solas were now dead, nearby, nothing more than corpses smoldering or not, it didn't matter, they were gone. No other living thing stirred. Nothing was left. No one was left.

A soft wind blew the ash into the air. It pulled at the tattered remains of Solas's robes. He couldn't tear his eyes from the burned field around him. This couldn't be happening. None of it could be happening. This wasn't want was meant to happen.

Before he knew what he was doing, he screamed a cry of pain and sorrow at the dark sky. It echoed almost sounding like a lone wolf's howl than the cry of a man in pain. If he could have cried, he knew he would have been weeping, but tears wouldn't come. His hand shook as he reached out to one of the burnt corpses. This wasn't what he had wanted to happen. The others – they, but no, no!

Solas forced himself to take a step forward. Perhaps there was one survive. One of the People who had made it out this alive. One who hadn't betrayed the empire or their people in any way to the shemlen. He staggered, clutching his side. The bleeding had slowed and he suspected he was only in as good a condition he was because he had been out for over a day. The time would have healed some of the wounds.

Hours slipped passed as Solas searched the battle field. None had survived. At least none here were alive. There was a chance, no matter how slim that some had escaped.

The pain increased with each step Solas took. He reached the nearby tree line. His shoulder slammed into one of the trees. The bark was blackened from the recent fire. Breath came to him in thin gasps. His body shook and yearned to sleep to heal the wounds.

"Can't yet," he rasped more to disturb the sickening silence of the battle field. "I can't yet," he repeated.

A drop struck his head. He looked towards the dark clouds, now heavy with rain. Another drop struck him, followed by another and another. The cold rain raced down his face. Muck, blood, and ash mixed with the rain water. Solas shivered. The world was weeping for the dead.

His bare foot sunk into the mix of mud and ash. He stepped again, taking hold of next tree to remain upright. All that mattered now was searching for survivors. But what could he do when he found them? Even he in this condition was of no use to anyone. If he gave into sleep now, there was no tell how long it would take for him to heal. Decades or centuries, it wouldn't matter. By the time he next woke, it would be too late.

It was all too late.

How had this path become the only one he could see? Where had it all gone wrong?

Yes, it was all too late. To take back what had been done and where he was going. Just too late.


	2. Chapter 1: Fracture

**A Request: **If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review. I love hearing what people have to say about the story so far.

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Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 1: Fracture

The hot sun was deadened by the soft shade of ancient trees. A soft crinkle of leaves as a breeze stirred them was almost comforting. Fen'Harel closed his eyes and leaned back against the rough bark of a tree. It had been far too long since he had last set foot in these woods. He took a deep breath of the warm, summer air. Alone, in this forest, he could sleep and dream within the Fade.

There wasn't time for that. Though, he wished to see what had changed here since he had left so many centuries ago with the others. Alas, there was no point right then and so much more to worry about when it came down to it.

A small breath escaped Fen'Harel. He kept his eyes closed. Right then he had no desire to keep moving despite the fact Mythal had summoned him. He didn't know why she had called him. Perhaps the others had also been summoned. This was the only matter which made sense. The others would be arriving at the places she had indicated then. And he, for one, had no desire to see Andruil. Not after the way they had parted.

"Master."

Fen'Harel opened his eyes a slit to see another elf had entered the small clearing. He carried a pack. In his hand he held a canteen which looked to have been refilled with fresh water. His, violet eyes were even dark thanks to the shadows cast by his hood.

"I brought fresh water for the rest of the journey."

The young elf informed Fen'Harel. He set down the pack and started to go through it. His face was marked with an intricate _vallaslin_. The blood writing was fresh and almost glistened on the boy's face. The _vallaslin_ he wore marked him as one of Fen'Harel's followers. Despite all of this, the sight of the markings only made Fen'Harel feel sick. It was another contradiction he couldn't escape. The boy had wanted to bind himself to Fen'Harel as the high priest, as a _slave_.

Fen'Harel let out a low breath and straightened.

"Were you dreaming, Master?" the boy asked as he pulled out some food.

"No." Fen'Harel didn't go further into it than this.

"Oh." The boy passed Fen'Harel the slice of bread and the water skin. He sat down near to Fen'Harel.

"Eat as well," Fen'Harel instructed the boy before he turned to the bread the boy had given him. Or, he guessed he really should start calling him by the name he had chosen upon becoming the high priest: Felassan. The boy loved the story about the slow arrow for some odd reason.

Felassan pulled out another slice of bread and nibbled on it while he watched Fen'Harel. It was rather unnerving having the boy watching him so closely. Fen'Harel did his best to ignore the child as he finished eating. He dusted the crumbs from his hands.

A breeze whispered through leaves. They danced overhead, causing the shadows to flicker over Fen'Harel and Felassan. The boy stopped eating and stared up at the leaves. A small light of wonder filled his violet eyes. The curiosity of youth. Fen'Harel suppressed the urge to laugh at the boy's expression, though a small smile flickered at the corners of his thin lips.

He stood.

"We should be off before the sun sets," Fen'Harel told Felassan.

Felassan gulped down the rest of his meal before he leapt to his feet. Before Fen'Harel could take the bag, the boy had it in hand and slung over his shoulder. He tugged on the hood of the plain, clean, traveling cloak.

"How far away is the meeting point, Master?" Felassan asked as he fell into step beside Fen'Harel.

The end of Fen'Harel's staff tapped against the dry, summer ground. Fen'Harel looked at Felassan out of the corner of his eye, but didn't otherwise speak. For a moment it looked as if Felassan was going to repeat the question when he closed his mouth. While Fen'Harel generally approved of curiosity and a desire for knowledge, he didn't want to tell the boy where they were going just yet.

The sun light was cast long shadows over the ground by the time Fen'Harel and Felassan came to the point he was to meet Mythal and, perhaps, the others at. It was a location of one of the many hidden eluvians. They had been placed such so that the so called "gods" could move without notice when need be.

A figure stepped out of the dark shadows of the cave. Felassan leapt forward, the silvery blade of a dagger glittered in the light of the low sun.

"Look before you leap." Fen'Harel pulled the back away from the newcomer.

The newcomer wore the hooded robes of a sentinel with the colorings and markings which showed him to be a High Priest. The armor he wore was light shades of brown and gold. A green _vallaslin_ was painted on the upper half of his face. It depicted the intricate breaches of an elegant tree. He bowed his head to them but didn't otherwise speak.

"_Andaran atish'an_, Abelas," Fen'Harel greeted the High Priest of Mythal with a bow of his head.

Abelas stepped aside for Fen'Harel and gestured him into the cave. The cool stone replaced the hard, dry earth of the forest. There was a soft light coming from deeper within the cave. A hum of magic could be heard as well, almost musical to the soft of the wind whistling against the mouth of the cave.

As Fen'Harel rounded a bend, he saw a figure silhouetted against the soft blue light of the magical mirror. Her armored hand traced patterns in the mirror. Her hair was stained white in the light though it normally gleamed as dark as a starless night. The way she wore her hair mirrored the horns of a fierce dragon. Her pointed ears came up just over the lower "horns."

"Ah, so you decided to come after all," she didn't turn to him. "I thought you wouldn't."

"The message sounded urgent, Mythal."

"Let go!" the soft protest came from behind them. Both Fen'Harel and Mythal turned to see that Abelas had dragged Felassan into the cave.

Abelas dropped Felassan who let out a soft shout as he struck the hard rock.

"My, this is a surprise. I thought you would have released the boy out of pity for him by now, Old Friend."

"Believe me, I tried," Fen'Harel stated in reply. "He refused." He turned back to Mythal.

Mythal smiled at this, her yellow eyes gleamed with amusement she must have been getting out of the fact Fen'Harel now had a priest who refused to be released from service even after being told the dangers being a High Priest entailed.

"Are the others coming?" he asked, turning back to the reason she had summoned him here rather than the fact he now had a shadow.

"No, perhaps one other will, but only in the crossroads. This matter is best discussed elsewhere." Without explaining she turned and entered the eluvian.

Fen'Harel shook his head. It was just like her. He followed her through into the crossroads. The place they came out wasn't like the normal paths the People would have taken. But it also wasn't their normal meeting place. It was dark and cold here. The trees around them lay thick with frost. His breath rose in fine plumes of mist as he stepped into the mist covered snow. His bare toes sank into the fine powder, but he didn't feel the cold.

There was something different about this part, off. It felt as if this eluvian had been cut from the rest of the crossroads. He frowned.

Behind him, he could hear Abelas and Felassan follow them. A soft gage came from Felassan as Abelas no doubt stopped the boy from following after Fen'Harel.

"We stay here," the older high priest told Felassan. "What they speak of, isn't for our ears, _da'len_."

Fen'Harel moved to where Mythal stood by a snow covered tree. Unlike other parts of the crossroads, these trees looked more like the ones they were used to in Elvhenan. This alone pointed to it being one of their gathering places.

The two of them stood in silence for several long moments.

"Andruil," Mythal started, "have you spoken to her since _they_ were sealed."

A shiver raced through Fen'Harel that had nothing to do with the cold. It had everything to do with the "they" she spoke of. None of them ever spoke the names of those who had once threatened the People. They had also forgone speaking of the long battles, battles which Andruil had taken a certain joy in Fen'Harel had never been able to understand. They were only knowns as the Forgotten now.

"Not often," Fen'Harel confessed. The truth was he had spoken more with Mythal than any of the others since he had made the decision to leave his temple centuries ago.

Mythal bowed her head, though her expression remained neutral. He knew that she wasn't shocked at his response and would have understood his desire to remain alone. Perhaps it had been a mistake to not go to the last few meetings, but Fen'Harel had been too far away from an eluvian to make it to them. He had only returned to where most resided in the past few years. Granted more had spread across the continent since then as well.

"She is far from well," Mythal told him. She lifted her hand and touched one frozen leaf with the tip of a clawed glove. "During the last meeting she tried to take another's orb."

Fen'Harel listened in silence, head tilted to one side as he took in every word.

"A few nights ago she attacked Elgar'nan and then myself."

She hesitated and looked Fen'Harel in the eye. They were close enough to be touching. If any outside of their group saw them they might have taken it as Fen'Harel and her as being young lovers. They were neither lovers nor young.

"Attacked?" he asked, frowning a little at this. "With the intent to _kill_?" He didn't laugh at this. If they could die only one of their own would be able to figure out a way to make it happen. If it had been one of the People or a shemlen, he would have laughed.

"Yes. Elgar'nan didn't see the worst of it. She's not after just our lives, Fen'Harel, but our power."

"Other than the orbs, I wasn't aware we could steal one another's power," he commented. His mind whirled with the possibilities this would open and fears which made his shiver again. None of the possibilities were good ones. They had agreed long ago to share in their power and ensure that none of them became corrupt. The meaning of the world had switched so much since the early days, Fen'Harel no longer knew of which corruption the others spoke of. Attacking the people to gain more power wasn't considered "corrupt" by most of the others and taking territory from one another wasn't either. But to physically steal another's power, another's _life_, perhaps that still fell under the category of "corrupt."

The years of they had fought side-by-side had forged them into something akin to a family. Mythal and Elgar'nan were the oldest out of them and had always led them. Fen'Harel was the next in age. Dirthamen and Falon'Din had come next. The three siblings had come after them: June, Sylaise, and Andruil. And finally there was Ghilan'nain who had been found just before the defeat of the Forgotten. Despite the gapes in their ages, the common foe and purpose had made all of them a family. Fen'Harel hand never known another family in his life and he doubted he ever would. On the field they had to trust one another with far more than just their lives, but their very being. To have one of them turn – the thought was too much to bare. Or was it.

They had fought one another in the past. But it had never been in the intent to kill or steal another's physical power. Perhaps it was just another matter he would need to think on.

"Are you certain she was trying to kill both of you?" he asked.

At this Mythal scowled at him. "I would think I would know the difference between just being attacked and an attempt on my life, Fen'Harel!" She moved a little ways from him. Her back was too him, shoulders hunched and arms folded across her chest. He had only seen her like this when one of the others had been wounded back during the long war. When they had entered a state of deep slumber to heal their wounds. Though she would never admit, she feared for them and for Andruil.

Fen'Harel moved over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I should not have doubted."

She turned to him. Her forehead touched his, one hand on his chest and other on his face. The tip of her clawed gloves were cold even to him. "I don't want to doubt," she whispered. "I don't want this to be true anymore than you do." Her voice was pained. "If we can't trust one another…" she trailed off.

The doubt in her, the fear, it was all too familiar to him. It was something he had hoped to never see. She was his closest and dearest friend, and he hated to say it but Elgar'nan wasn't the best person to go to when hurt or in the need of support.

"I know," he whispered. The thought of not being able to trust one of their own, was unbearable. He pulled back from Mythal. "Summon her here. She'll think the others have gathered here. We can judge her reaction to it just being you." His grip tightened on her shoulder. "I'll be close by, but we have to be certain."

Mythal nodded. "Thank you, Fen'Harel. I can always count on you to have a plan." She looked him in the eye before she nodded. "Take the boy so he won't be harmed then find a good place to hide."

Fen'Harel bowed his head to her before moving back to the eluvian. Before too long, he had hidden Felassan where the boy wouldn't end up harmed. Fen'Harel moved so he could just make out Mythal as she walked among the trees. From here he could see both her and the eluvian but neither she nor Abelas could see him.

If all went well then Mythal's fears would be disproven and nothing would happen other than Andruil showing up just to talk. He hoped against all hope that this was what would happen.

Several hours passed before two figures stepped through the eluvian. One of them stopped and stood by Abelas. This had to have been Andruil's high priest: Bor'assan. The smaller of the two figures continued forward heading straight for Mythal. This was Andruil. She wore thick leathers. A bow was strapped to her back and two daggers were sheathed at her waist. She looked every bit the huntress she was.

Even from this distance he could see fresh blood she had yet to wash from her armor. It was impossible to tell if this blood was elven or just an animal's. Her hair was short and messy, almost spiked. Both her hair and eyes were color of bark, a light brown most of the time.

"Where are the others?" Andruil's voice was brisk, almost harsh as she stopped near to where Mythal stood.

"They're not coming," Mythal told her. "I wanted to talk to you alone over what happened the other day."

Fen'Harel didn't need to shift or move to see the hunger filled smile spreading across Andruil's face. A dark light had sparked in her eyes. "You're alone," the words were whispered. She licked her lips.

"Yes," Mythal stated with a small scowl. "Andruil, why did you attack both Elgar'nan and myself? All of us have been allies, if not friends, for centuries."

At this Andruil folded her arms across her chest and gave a soft snort. "Friends?" She laughed. "Oh, yes, friends. We've been friends." She gave a dark, maddened laugh. Her shoulders shook. "Until you lot decided our power would be used only for the good of the People."

"The People need us, Andruil, it isn't our place to rule over them or to harm them with the powers we have." Mythal's eyes narrowed. "You agreed to this like all the others."

"I only did because they had," she snapped. "All of you are weak and are holding me back!" Her hand slid to the hilt of one dagger. "I have the power to change Elvhenan for the better. Under me the People will understand what their true place is in life." She lunged for Mythal, drawing her daggers in a fluid motion.

Fen'Harel was faster. He leapt to his feet and sent up a barrier between Mythal and Andruil. The molten daggers, forged to deal great harm to the forgotten, slashed through the barrier as if it had been made of butter. But it had given Mythal enough time to retreat away from Andruil.

"You liar!" Andruil shrieked. Her eyes were wild as she turned on Fen'Harel, teeth bared in a snarl. "You weren't alone after all." Her fiery gaze fell over Fen'Harel. The anger deepened. "Fen'Harel, I should have known she would run crying to you first. She always does."

"Don't do this, Andruil." Fen'Harel straightened. "I don't want to fight a friend."

"We were never true friends, Fen'Harel." She grinned. "I'll take your power as well as Mythal's while I'm here."

"Take our power?" Fen'Harel asked, his voice calm. "Andruil, you know you can—" he cut off and leapt to one side. Her daggers grazed the very end of his robes.

"I'll sever your power from your very essence," she laughed. "It will be wonderful and very, very painful for you, my dear little wolf." She grinned at him.

Fen'Harel rolled back to his feet. His hand was outstretched, magic filled the space around as he twisted and wrapped the veil.

Energy snapped around Andruil. She leapt towards. The energy caught her and threw her back into the center of it.

A snarl escaped her lips as she lashed out at the magic. The blades slashed through energy as she used her own magic to counter Fen'Harel's.

While she fought against this spell, Fen'Harel moved to stand by Mythal. "Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded, looking a little pale. "I wish I hadn't been right," she whispered.

"As do I," Fen'Harel muttered. His grip tightened on his staff. "We have to stop her," he told Mythal in a tight voice.

"Agreed," the word was warped as scales moved over Mythal's skin. Magic shifted her form as she grew beside him. Within moments a massive High Dragon had replaced the elven woman. She bared her fangs as a growl rumbled deep in her chest.

The spell broke and Andruil rushed forward.

Flame burst from Mythal's great maw.

Andruil danced back. A magical barrier erupted around her, directing the heat and flames away from her. She continued forward. With a mighty leap, she lunged for Mythal's head, daggers glinting in her hands.

Lightening raced along Fen'Harel's staff. It sparked and raced out to greet Andruil with the slightest flick the staff tip. Another barrier appeared around her.

Fen'Harel twisted his staff around him and sent a massive wave of raw lightening towards her. Andruil was flung away from Mythal. She landed catlike several paces away.

A shriek of pure hate and defiance tore from Andruil's lips. Her daggers sank into the ground. The earth shook under them, rocks breaking in a cascade heading straight for Fen'Harel.

He moved away, bones snapping as magic flowed inward. His hands struck the ground, now massive white paws as he raced away from the attack. It followed him. His claws dug into the icy soil of the crossroads. He wove between trees before he turned sharply. Wind streamed through his thick, white fur as he pelted straight towards Andruil. He leapt. Fire raced around him from Mythal. The hot fires struck the ground where Andruil had stood moments before. Fen'Harel landed in the mists of the fire. It moved around him, but never once burned.

Where was she?

His ears perked. The sound of someone leaping towards him came. He raced to one side. He twisted just as Andruil landed where he had been a moment before. His powerful jaw snapped shut over her arm. Warm blood filled his mouth as he bit down harder.

Andruil screamed as one of her blades struck the ground. The earth turned black and thin trail of smoke came up from where the molten blade struck the ground.

"Get off, you mangy wolf!" she snarled at him. She lashed at him with her other blade.

Sheer, blinding agony lanced through his shoulder. Fen'Harel released her at the unexpected, intense pain. A whine escaped him as he stumbled back. He could barely place weight on his left foreleg. The harsh scent of burnt fur made his head spin. He shook himself.

"Fen'Harel!" Mythal's shout was followed by her appearing before him, an elf once more. She threw her hands into the air. Fire raced up around them, stopping Andruil from being able to get to them. "Fen'Harel." Mythal turned to him. Her eyes glistened with concern.

He forced his muscles to relax and allow for him to shift back into his elven form. The pain increased. He gasped and clutched his arm. In this form the wound was deeper and far longer than it had been as a wolf. Though, in the past when he had been wounded in one form, the wound mirrored itself in his other it didn't stay the same length. The wound cracked, opening where once it had been nearly cauterized.

"I'm fine," he painted as he forced himself to stand. His staff was held in his good hand.

"You got careless, _Da'fen_," Andruil goaded him. She licked his blood from the dagger. The heat of the blade seemed to have no effect on her. Her eyes held an insane light to them thanks to the fire. A grin spread across her face. Blood dripped from her lips. Her gaze flickered to the wound he'd managed to inflict on her.

At least now she would be unable to use her favored weapon: the long bow.

"Tch. Filthy mutt," she glowered, spitting the words. "I was going to make your death painless, _Da'fen_. Now, I think I will save you for last, let you suffer as you watch me kill Mythal."

"We have to stop her here," Mythal told him. "I doubt Elgar'nan will be able to restrain her."

Fen'Harel bowed his head in agreement. He straightened. They moved away from one another, all the while he kept his gaze locked on Andruil.

"Oh, what's this?" She laughed.

Fen'Harel unleased a stream of strong, green energy which stuck Andruil in the chest. The laugh died on her lips. Her eyes grew wide with shock as she no doubt realized what he and Mythal were doing. A strong beam of blue energy lashed out from opposite Fen'Harel, coming from Mythal. It was the very force of their essence they wielded against her now. A tact used only a few times in the past. The ground shook under them as Andruil was forced down. Chain erupted from the ground and snaked up over her arms.

Fen'Harel released the magic only when he knew she was secure. Mythal darted towards her and kicked the daggers away from Andruil. She took the bow from Andruil's back and tossed it aside.

"Why?" Fen'Harel asked as he approached Andruil, clutching his arm in pain. "Why do this?"

Andruil smirked at him. "_Dirthara-ma_," she spat at him.

"Go, Fen'Harel. I will seal her here." Mythal looked Fen'Harel in the eye. "I'll meet you on the other side of the eluvian."

Too drained to argue, Fen'Harel nodded. "Felassan," he managed to call the boy. He limped towards the eluvian. Only Abelas remained there. No doubt Bor'assan had ran when he'd seen his mistress fall to Mythal and Fen'Harel.

"Master!" Felassan fell into step beside Fen'Harel. They passed through the eluvian side-by-side. "Shall I heal you?" he asked, eying the bloodied wound.

"No," Fen'Harel told the boy. "Wounds inflected by Andruil can't be magically healed," he explained to the boy. Not easily at least and not by any mortal magic.

A few minutes later Mythal stepped out into the cave followed by Abelas. "It's done," she told him. There was no joy or pride in the words. "Fen'Harel," she started after a moment, "you must never tell the others what happened here this day."

He bowed his head. "I understand, old friend."

"I've severed this eluvian from the crossroads. The only way someone can free her is if they can activate this one." She looked at the eluvian with sad eyes.

It was for the best. Still, he wished it had never come to this.

"Perhaps, in time, she will…" Mythal trailed off and closed her eyes. "We'll speak later, Fen'Harel." With those words she stepped passed him, Abelas followed after. The old high priest didn't even glance back at them before the two of them vanished from sight.

Fen'Harel looked one last time at the eluvian. Then, with a heavy heart, he turned from it and moved off. He refused to stop to tend to his wound until the cave was well behind him and Felassan.

* * *

Elven phrases used:  
_Da'fen _– little wolf  
_Vallaslin _– blood writing  
_Andaran atish'an _– formal greeting  
_da'len _– Little child  
_shemlen _– Quick child/ children

* * *

**(Author's Note: **I did end up heavily editing this chapter so it fit better with the rest of the story. As for people wondering about Felassan and Mythal. Mythal's relationship with Fen'Harel will be explained in the story as you continue forward. Felassan is being here because it made sense to me that he really that old and I wanted a teenage/ childlike character in the story.**) **


	3. Chapter 2: Meaning of Pride

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 2: Meaning of "Pride"

A soft drizzle had fallen over the world over the past few hours. Fen'Harel looked out of the cave he and Felassan were taking shelter in. The rain fell as a fine mist only inches from where he stood. Sharp, fresh scents hung over the world which only rain could bring out in the plant life. He breathed deep of the scents and closed his eyes.

Behind him, Felassan tended the fire, keeping the flames alive with wood. "I wasn't expecting rain," the boy mumbled more to himself than to Fen'Harel. "A lot of the wood got wet and we're running low on supplies." The sound of him going through the bag followed. "Master," he spoke up, addressing Fen'Harel rather than just muttering to himself.

"Hmm," Fen'Harel grunted in response. He closed his eyes, listening to both the boy and the gentle patter of the rain against stone and earth.

"We need more supplies and I don't mean just meat, we've been out of that since before Mythal summoned you. I believe there is a town close to here, isn't there?"

"There is," was Fen'Harel's only reply.

"Do we have time to stop by there?"

"Yes." Fen'Harel turned from the cave entrance and moved over to the fire. The warm washed over him in sharp contrast to the chill of the day. "Night will be upon us soon, try to get some rest, Felassan." He settled by the fire and watched the flames flicker and dance. Embers crackled up towards the ceiling before they flickered out and floated back down.

Several long moments passed where Fen'Harel watched the fire start to die away. Across the fire, Felassan murmured in his sleep. The boy deserved better than a life of service especially one which bound him to Fen'Harel. But Felassan had chosen this life and nothing Fen'Harel did or said would free him from it, well short of making the boy tranquil or outright killing him. Neither of which sat well with Fen'Harel.

Fen'Harel removed his traveling cloak and placed it over his shoulders as a makeshift blanket. He watched the fire a moment longer before he closed his eyes. When he next opened his eyes the cave was tinted green with the feeling of the Fade.

Old memories whispered around Fen'Harel as he sat up. He took a deep breath and listened for several long moments. One memory showed a young couple taking shelter in this cave during a rain storm while another showed a small group of shemlen doing the same but just for a night and not because of rain.

He shook his head and stood. For once Fen'Harel wasn't here to see the past memories of those who had stopped within this very cave. He focused on what lay beyond the memories and let himself be pulled from the cave and into the Fade proper. The memories still whispered to him as if calling for him to return and explore them deeper.

With some effort, Fen'Harel turned away from the memories and set off through the familiar paths of the Fade. There was a spirit here he wanted to speak with. He had been unable to find her the last several times he had searched. Perhaps tonight he could find her.

This night it felt as if the Fade was pointing him towards his closest friend instead of towards the dreams of the People. Sure enough he soon came upon her. Her figure was glowing a soft shade of purple against the aura of the Fade. One delicate hand reached towards fresh blossoms of a tree within this particular memory.

Fen'Harel approached her, watching as her fingers traced the leaves with an almost calculated grace.

"I knew you would come, Solas." The name was one only she called him. It had been this way since the day he had first found her, the rarest of all spirits in the Fade: a spirit of Wisdom.

"_Aneth ara_," Fen'Harel greeted her with a bow of his head. He stopped beside her and inspected the tree. The reflection of the tree showed it in early spring, _years_ younger than one he'd passed several times on his journey.

"I'm sorry, I don't have the answer to the question you first sought from me," she told him.

The words were unexpected and drew him from his thought. He turned his gaze on her. It had been many years since he had thought on that question or to seek that answer. He hadn't given up on it, just not thought on it.

"If there was an answer to be had easily we would have found it by now, _ma folan_," he stated. He turned his gaze back on the tree. There was always a reason he found her in the places of the Fade he did. Sometimes it was related to an event and others it was just because she was seeking a memory long lost to time. This time he doubted it was the memory.

"It's ancient now," she started, "but I like this memory, when the tree was young with few worries, fears, and scars."

A shiver raced down his spin at the feeling of her wisplike hand on his injured shoulder. So he was a tree now. He smiled with amusement at the comparison, but refrained from speaking. There was more to what she was trying to tell him than this.

"The years of war twisted her mind, her thoughts are dark, cold, cut from all life and joy. Withering until nothing remains but pride, hunger." Her glowing eyes were locked on his face while her finger traced the length of the wound. "Her pride has consumed her. Her hunger for battle and strife will devour far more."

Fen'Harel frowned. "_Falon_," he started, "are you telling me she's going to escape? Mythal was certain she couldn't."

The spirit of wisdom tilted her head to one side. A soft note, which sounded close to laughter, escaped her. "You are wiser than most, Solas, but still need to learn to see sometimes."

His eyes narrowed a little at this. See what? Andruil had been locked away. Only Bor'assan knew of her location and yet he couldn't get through the eluvian and into the place where she'd been sealed. Well, not without the passphrase to reactive that eluvian he couldn't. And the only way to get the phrase was from Mythal herself. Despite having been there, he didn't know the passphrase, nor did he want to.

Solas? His eyes closed. She had called him "pride" since their first meeting. At first he had wondered if it was her hoping he wouldn't twist her into a demon of pride. Now he wondered if it was more a quip on him than anything else.

"You've called me 'solas' since the day we first met," he started, watching his phrasing.

"You are solas. Pride of the People, for individual thought, and freedom of will. The pride to stand tall and take back what is lost, to rebel. Yet, to never stand so tall as to look down upon those around you." She looked at the tree. "All need a piece of pride or one is forever bowed in shame. You are those pieces. You are what makes a beaten and battered slave hold their head high in defiance. Thus, you are Solas."

The words were meant in another way but they only made Fen'Harel close his eyes and take a deep breath. It hurt then to be such a pride when he was never close to the People he had always fought to protect. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. In this moment he realized just how alone he really was. The others as well. All of them were forever apart from the People, forever alone.

"_Na'din u, uth nan mien'harel_." Her soft voice whispered to Fen'Harel as he was drawn away from the Fade and towards the waking world.

His eyes snapped open to the embers of last night's fire. The parting words of his friend echoed in his ears. Never, in all the years he had known her, had she said such words to him.

A soft murmur came from Felassan. The boy turned in his sleep so he was now on his back, mouth a little open and hand off to one side.

For a moment Fen'Harel looked at him before he stood. His feet were silent against the cold stone. He knelt beside the boy and moved his hand so it rested inches above Felassan's forehead. How easy it would be to remove the boy from the contract binding him to Fen'Harel. How simple to remove the _vallaslin_. To make the boy free again.

His hand shook a little. It wasn't what Felassan wanted. And without the boy, Fen'Harel knew he would be utterly alone. Fen'Harel withdrew his hand. It was selfish of him, but, for the first time, perhaps he could have another to travel alongside him. A friend outside of the Fade and the others. But could the child ever view him as more than just Fen'Harel? He didn't know and that scared him a little.

He moved away from Felassan. "Coward." His voice was horse and soft. That was what he was: a coward. Right then he couldn't even enact on his own beliefs and free the boy just because he _feared_ being alone. "_Na'din u, uth nan mien'harel_," he whispered the words she had uttered to him under his breath. What a joke.

The soft, fresh air of predawn roused Fen'Harel as he stepped out of the cave. He couldn't return to sleep and he couldn't stand the thought of just sitting to wait for the dawn.

Wet grasses felt cool against his bare feet. The ground was still moist with from the rain hours ago. Fresh scents of the forest filled the air. He paused and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the air. He savored the fresh smell of the early hours.

As Fen'Harel felt himself relax, he started to shift his form. He padded forward, slowly at first, then his claws dug into the wet earth. He took off across the field and towards he nearby forest. The grasses brushed his fur, leaving behind water. But it didn't penetrate his thick, white coat. Wind pinned his ears to his head. The cool air raced through his fur.

The half jaw he wore around his neck tapped against his chest with each long stride he took. It was the only item which didn't vanish when he went into his wolf form. The shadows of the forest washed over Fen'Harel as he raced into the cover of the trees. He raced through the trees, weaving his way through the trunks as he climbed a small hill.

He slowed as he approached the top. He stop just at the edge of the small cliff, flanks heaving as he breathed hard from the run. A breeze pulled at his fur and eased through his lungs. Another scent came to him over the rain and fresh forest. _Ram_! His ears perked and fur prickled down his spin. The urge to give chase rushed through him. Ram would also provide something to eat other than stale bread. His mouth watered at the thought. Besides the boy also needed something more than bread to eat when he woke.

Without another thought, Fen'Harel padded back into the forest. He kept himself low, knowing his fur could give him away. Soft movement caught his eye. Fen'Harel paused, one paw raised. Sure enough a ram appeared and glanced around before it bowed its head to the damp foliage.

The sight of the ram made Fen'Harel narrow his eyes a little. He lowered himself further to the ground. One paw was placed carefully on the damp ground before him followed by another. His muscles were tense and tail lifted so it wouldn't drag on the ground. He drew himself closer, silent as death itself. When he had come to the edge of the cover, he rolled his shoulders and moved back on his hunches. He was only just close enough to leap on his prey.

A growl rumbled deep in Fen'Harel's throat. He sprung. The ram lifted its head and stared at him. By the time it realized what was happening, it was too late. Fen'Harel clamped down hard on the ram's neck. He dragged it down with him. His teeth sank deeper into the ram's soft throat. The ram struggled against the hold, legs flaying. Its dark eyes were wild with fear and panic.

Fen'Harel ripped out the ram's throat. Blood splattered against the nearby rocks. It dripped from his muzzle to the twitching ram. Then the ram was still, lifeless. The warm blood smelled good. He moved in. Then shook himself. This ram should be cooked for him and Felassan. Besides, Fen'Harel had eaten raw ram several times before in his wolf form. It always made him feel sick upon returning to an elf.

He grasped the ram in his jaws and started the long process of dragging it back to the cave.

The sky was tinged with the color of the rising sun by the time Fen'Harel arrived back at the cave. He shifted back to his natural form only once the blood had been cleaned from his white fur.

"Master?" Felassan had roused when Fen'Harel dropped the ram by the remains of last night's fire. The boy sat up and rubbed his eyes. The moment his hands dropped his eyes went wide. "Where'd _that_ come from?"

"I killed it," _obviously_, he added the last part to himself as he walked over to the pack and started to look for the skinning knife within it. "Get fresh wood for the fire," he told the boy. "We need to smoke the meat today before the rain comes."

"Yes, Master!" Felassan leapt to his feet and raced out of the cave without pause. There had been undeniable joy in the boy's voice. Joy that Fen'Harel couldn't blame him for having.

Most of the day was spent by the time the ram had been cleaned and prepared for being smoked. Fen'Harel had set aside some meat for the two of them to eat while they smoked the rest to preserve it. The horns and leather had been set aside for when they next visited a city. It would make them some coin to help pay for the others supplies they needed.

"If you could hunt, why didn't you before now?" Felassan asked as he looked up from the meat he'd been savoring. "I'm just curious, master," he added, looking a little worried.

Fen'Harel gave the boy a small smile. "I would rather you ask questions, how else are you going to learn anything?"

The boy flushed a little. Then he nodded. "So why?"

"I was more focused on the meeting with Mythal," Fen'Harel replied.

"Oh."

There was a long moment of silence in which the two of them ate.

"Can I ask why you helped me?" the boy asked. "I mean I did pray for one of the Gods to come and save me but I never thought it would be you and you asked for nothing in return."

"Killing the slavers was its own reward," stated Fen'Harel. "To answer your question: I don't like or approve of slavery."

"Is that why you didn't approve when I decided to bind myself as high priest?"

"Partially." Fen'Harel finished his meal. "I don't like enslavement or when someone willing gives up their free will by binding themselves to another."

"Is that why you don't have the same rituals as Mythal or the others?" the boy asked.

Fen'Harel didn't reply to this. He bowed his head. In all honesty he only knew a little about what the others did. Mythal had told him point blank about _vir'abelasan_ and what she intended with it. It was why Abelas had taken the name he had. His stomach churned at the thought. Abelas was loyal to Mythal even without the effects the well had on him. Still, he had submitted himself completely to Mythal just to prove his undying loyalty to her. There was no doubt in Fen'Harel's mind that Abelas would do anything for Mythal. The man's belief was powerful and strong.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Felassan frown. The boy tilted his head to one side in a silent question.

"Wrap the meat," Fen'Harel instructed the boy instead of reply. "I'll see to the camp."

"Oh, okay." The boy sounded disappointed but did as Fen'Harel instructed.

There were just some questions the answer was far from simple. A part of Fen'Harel wondered what the others did do for those who chose to follow them and another part of him feared such answers.

* * *

Elven phrases used:  
_Aneth ara_ – informal or friendly greeting. Translated to "My safe place"  
_Ma falon _– my friend  
_Na'din u, uth nan mien'harel_ – "you're not alone, eternal spirit of rebellion" my own mixing for words to get this.  
_vir'abelasan_ – basically the "Well of Sorrows" or just refers to it.

* * *

**(Author's Note: **Hmm, Felassan isn't a character option for this site. That is depressing. Please keep in mind Felassan is young here compared to what we see in _Masked Empire_ and is extremely young by elvish standards at this time.

I am going through editing the chapters during the time between updates, that is why this one has changed and chapter 1 was made smoother.**) **


	4. Chapter 3: A Request Made

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 3: A Request Made

The sun had long since vanished from the highest point when the small town came into sight. Felassan paused just behind his master. Fen'Harel was looking out over the city from their vantage point. He shifted the pack on his shoulders. Felassan followed his gaze and blinked.

"It's bigger than you said it would be," he whispered more to himself than to Fen'Harel.

Fen'Harel looked at him. His sharp, blue-gray eyes made the breath catch a little in Felassan's lungs. It was always like this when Fen'Harel looked right at him. The timeless wisdom reflected in the God's eyes would have been enough to stop a rampaging dragon if it ever came down to that.

After what felt like an eternity Fen'Harel looked away from Felassan. "I've not been here in some time," the god told him. His sharp eyes were locked once more on the city. "A noble seems to have moved here," he murmured this to himself.

"Are we leaving the city before nightfall?" Felassan asked. He had taken heart when Fen'Harel had told him it was all right to ask questions. He was still puzzled to why Fen'Harel hadn't answered the one about how the other Gods went about "binding" their high priests. Granted, Fen'Harel still didn't seem too happy at Felassan for binding himself to Fen'Harel. It was the least Felassan could do to repay the God for saving his life, right?

"We'll be spending the night at an inn." With those words Fen'Harel started down the narrow trail towards the main road leading into the city.

Felassan felt excitement race through him. A night indoors! He raced to catchup with his master. Though, now that Felassan thought on it, Fen'Harel didn't seem to be the type to like sleeping inside. Most of the places they had slept had been far better than the places the slavers had made him sleep in the past. All those places were cold and damp. He had been seen as too frail and sickly to be of much value and thus he'd had the worst sleeping places. Never once had he slept indoors. This would be new.

The main road was bustling with activity when Felassan stepped onto it just behind his master. It took all of his focus to not lose sight of Fen'Harel in the crowd despite his master being tall for an elvhen.

Fen'Harel never once seemed to mind all of the bustle leading into the city or look down on those who shoved passed him to get there a little faster. His master just stepped to one side each time or caught himself if someone shoved passed. There was no anger or sign that he even cared. It was odd to see given all the power Fen'Harel held. Odder still was the fact he was a god and yet really didn't mind being treated like a commoner when in a crowd.

Soon Felassan and his master found themselves close to a merchant wagon. Felassan felt a chill pass through him at the sight of slaves bound to the back the wagon. Each of them showed signs of fresh _vallaslin_ which meant they had just been bought. The oldest one in the group was an elvhen woman. Her shoulders were hunched and eyes downcast. He was level with her right then and couldn't help but feel his stomach twist in sympathy for her.

As if she sensed his gaze on her, she looked towards him. Her face crinkled a little with a soft, kind smile. He realized it was because he too wore the _vallaslin_ of a slave. Though hers, along with the others in the group, pointed to her belonging to a master who followed Andruil. After all the markings mimicked those he had seen on Bor'assan. A bow with an arrow being shot through it.

Her chains clicked against the stones. Her soft eyes locked onto him. "Your master's a follower of Fen'Harel," her voice cracked with fatigue and was kept quiet so that Fen'Harel wouldn't be able to hear her.

Felassan glanced at his master. He couldn't just out right state his master was actually Fen'Harel, could he? He doubted she would believe him. He looked back at her and nodded instead.

"Hide your markings," she whispered to him, "even if your master beats you for it. The master of this city has _killed_ all followers of Fen'Harel."

"Why?" Felassan couldn't stop himself from asking.

The woman's voice dropped lower, "There is a rumor going around that Andruil and Fen'Harel are fighting. The noble here is showing his devotion to Andruil by sacrificing all those who worship Fen'Harel. He either kills or resells the slaves."

Felassan's stomach twisted. Vile burned his throat at the thought of being solid back into the life Fen'Harel had saved him from. "T-thank you for the warning, _hahren_," he managed to say and bowed his to her. Somehow he kept himself for vomiting from fear. Instead he quickened his pace until he was struggling to match his master's longer stride. "Master," he started.

A sharp tug made Felassan stop as Fen'Harel pulled up Felassan's hood. "I heard her," he stated. "Keep your hood up and head bowed while we're here, _da'len_."

"Couldn't we head to another city or town, Master?"

"I'm rather curious to what's happening here." Fen'Harel glanced down at him. "Stay close to me while we're here as well. I don't want you to do anything brash."

Felassan nodded. The words did nothing to settle his fears, however. Just the fact they were still heading into the town made him feel queasy. It was more than that though. Fen'Harel wore fine robes which wouldn't have looked out of place on a noble. Heavy, white fur was wrapped around his shoulders and fell down his back. More fur rimmed the lower part of his robes, the same pure white as around his neck. The half of the lower jaw of wolf was always around his neck and was the only part of his clothing which didn't speak of nobility. He held a white staff in one hand, wolf carved into the top of the wood. Even with Felassan hiding the _vallaslin_ it was clear to any outsider that his master "followed" Fen'Harel.

His master slowed his pace a little and Felassan felt some of the tension ease as his master placed an arm over his shoulders. "Relax," Fen'Harel's breathe tickled Felassan's ear.

It took a little but Felassan managed to take a deep breath and do as his master instructed. He felt the tention leave his shoulders. Even as he relaxed, his master didn't remove his arm from around Felassan's shoulders. For some reason this made it easier to stay relaxed as they passed into the city. It was safe, he decided, to be beside his master. Fen'Harel was one of the most powerful people in all of Elvhenan, if not the world. Felassan shouldn't doubt that his master could keep the two of them safe.

The city was packed even at this hour. Merchants lined the roads despite the fact this wasn't the market. The two of them were hard pressed to pass through without notice. Several people glanced in their direction, but most of them were eying Fen'Harel and not Felassan. Granted, beside his master Felassan admitted to looking very plain. Fen'Harel seemed to take not visible notice of the looks people cast him, but the longer Felassan looked at his master the more he knew his master did notice and was taking note of the people's reactions.

"We'll find an inn," Fen'Harel told Felassan. His sharp eyes weren't on Felassan though. His master kept his gaze fixed ahead of them.

It felt as if a hive of angry bees were following them through the streets. The muttering didn't die down or stop the later the day grew. If anything it increased as they went from inn to inn looking for a free room.

The sun hung just over the horizon when they found an inn with a small room free. Felassan followed his master to one of the free tables in the crowded inn's dinning area. The noise here wasn't too bad. Most of the elves were either too busy eating to really notice Fen'Harel. There were a few rowdy in the crowd from having just a little too much to drink.

Felassan kept his gaze on his master while the sat. Fen'Harel wasn't looking at him. Instead he was bent to his food, but there was something in his master's posture which scared Felassan. There was a tension across his shoulders and face, only noticeable to Felassan because he sat across from his master.

He managed to keep one eye on the god while he ate the warm meal before him. It was the richest food Felassan had ever eaten before in his life. The broth was warm, thick and delicious. The bread thick and well kneaded. He had thought the ram earlier had been good, but this was far better than even that. Not that he hadn't liked the ram his master had caught them, but this was something else entirely.

_Thud _– the sound of a sword slamming onto the table made Felassan jump with the food. Across from him Fen'Harel straightened, his eyes narrowed at the elf who now stood before them. He hefted the sword from the table, grinning.

"Well, look at this fellas, a follower of Fen'Harel's wandered in." He grinned at Fen'Harel. "A rather rich one at that to own such fancy robes."

Fen'Harel cocked one eyebrow. There was a soft, almost frightening smile curling his lips. "My, what's this?" his voice was light and, in the same moment, the tone scared Felassan more than the group of thugs before their table.

The one who had slammed his sword on the table looked a little unnerved by Fen'Harel's reaction. He rolled his shoulders and coughed. "You're kind isn't welcome here, _Fen_." He managed to spit into the remains of the meal.

Felassan was about to leap to his feet and tackle the larger elf. But Fen'Harel reacted first. He stood, movement thin and graceful, yet speaking of the wolf his master could become with just as simple a movement as this.

"You utter such a word as if it were a matter to be ashamed of." His staff was in hand.

At once the others backed away. "He's a mage." They whispered to one another, skin now pale with fear. While mages were common among the elvhen, all of them held positions of power: either as nobility, rulers of their people, or priests and servants to the Gods themselves. Or, like with this case, were actually one of the gods.

"He's just one man," snapped the leader. "And the noble here will reward us for bringing him a follower of Fen'Harel."

At this both of Fen'Harel's eyebrows rose. "Do you really want to tempt fate?" He gave a wave of his hand and fire crackled into life. It flickered and glowed in hand, never once burning it. He twisted his hand through the air and the fire reacted to the smallest of gestures. "I could set you ablaze with slightest of thoughts. Keep this in mind if you decide to continue down this path."

There was a long moment in which no one moved. Then the leader backed up a few paces. He didn't speak, only eyed the fire.

Fen'Harel nodded to him. The fire vanished from his head. "Wise choice, _da'len_." He turned away from them.

"Fen'Harel be damned." The man spat and lunged at Fen'Harel, his blade drawn.

"Look out!" Felassan shouted at his master, but he needn't have bothered.

Fen'Harel side stepped the other elf. He moved around him and took hold of him from behind. With the speed and skill of countless years of continuous battle, Fen'Harel threw the larger elf away from the table. Frost whispered down to the tip of the staff. Ice flew from the staff end and stuck the thug in the back.

A shriek escaped the man's lips as he fell. The ice clung to the leather of his coat. He scrambled back to his feet, sword held at the ready. "You'll regret that!" he lunged again at Fen'Harel.

"Honestly." Fen'Harel stuck him hard in the chest before whipping around and striking his back. He didn't even bother to use magic this time.

The thug struck the ground hard. He gasped and spat out a small globule of blood. He struggled back to his feet, wincing as he moved. "Help me attack this traitor to Andruil," bellowed the thug. "We'll be greatly rewarded for bringing him in."

At this Fen'Harel's lip curled back in a snarled. His eyes glittered. "Traitor?" the word was spoken with soft venom. "I've faced more for the People than you can even start to imagine, _da'len_," he emphasized _da'len_ as he raised his staff. "If I am the traitor here, than you are not of the People."

"You dare insult me, _da'fen_!" snarled the thug. "I am more one of the People than a _harellan_ like you!" He lunged at Fen'Harel again.

The staff flicked up and caught him in the neck. The thug collapsed to the ground, gasping. Fen'Harel was over him, the tip of the staff pressed against the thug's throated. "_Harellan_? I've betrayed none of my kin, _da'len_," snarled Fen'Harel. He pressed the staff tip harder into the thug's throat.

"Master!" Felassan shouted at him as the thug began to trash against the hold Fen'Harel had on him.

His word acted as jolt through his master. Fen'Harel tensed then his expression cleared of the frightening look it had held moments ago. He released the thug.

A gasping noise escaped the thug. He just lay there, limp as he struggled to breath.

"Let this be a lesson to you, _da'len_," Fen'Harel spoke in soft, yet stern tones which carried through the silent room like thunder over the plains. "Never attack someone with far more battle experience than yourself unless you wish to die." He looked at Felassan. "Come, _lethallin_," Fen'Harel gestured for Felassan to follow him.

Felassan grabbed up the pack and followed his master through the crowd of on lookers. Not even the innkeeper approached them. Her eyes tracked the two of them until they headed up the short flight of steps and into their room. The door snapped shut behind Felassan, leaving only the soft light of a glow stone for a source of light in the small room.

The light was cast over Fen'Harel who was slumped over, using the staff as if it was the only thing keeping him standing. His gaze was downcast. The posture was so strange, Felassan felt his skin prickle with fear.

"Master?" he asked as he set down the pack before crossing over to Fen'Harel. He stopped at the sight of blood where Andruil had injured him. But that wasn't right, the wound should have healed by now, shouldn't it have? "Master, you're hurt." Felassan raced back over to the pack and dug through it for a clean cloth and some herbs he'd gathered and dried a few days ago before the rains had come.

Once he had gathered all the items he would need, he turned back to see Fen'Harel watching him. There was no sign of the anger he had moments ago, or amusement in his eyes. His face was expressionless.

"Master, let me treat the wound before it gets worse," Felassan pleaded with the God.

A small breath escaped Fen'Harel. For a moment it looked as if he was going to deny Felassan's request then he nodded. He removed the thick robe to reveal the thin shirt he wore underneath. He wore another shirt under than one. This one it was clear to see the blood. He removed that shirt as well and sat down on stool in the room.

Felassan focused on mixing the herbs together in the way the memories of the previous high priests showed him as he inspected the wound. It was deep and showed signs of having been reopened several times. Like his master had said before, healing magic wouldn't have any effect on the wound. It was because of the special blades Andruil used.

"Why do her weapons stop the wound from healing with magic?" Felassan asked as he spread the poultice he'd just made over the wound.

Fen'Harel didn't react though Felassan knew the poultice had to sting. More scars could be seen covering the god's back and torso. It looked as if he had been through a forest made of blades and not leaves. Were these old scars from when Fen'Harel and the other gods had fought the Forgotten?

"It was a trick she picked up from the Forgotten," Fen'Harel's voice made Felassan jump a little. The silence had lasted so long he had thought this was another of the questions he would refuse to answer. "Any wound they inflected would take weeks to heal if we slept to speed it up or months to years if we didn't. Most of the time the wounds would scar instead of healing as completely as normal wounds would.

"Andruil grew tired of it being a one sided battle and thus learned how to craft blades that would react in a similar fashion to those the Forgotten used. Except this wasn't enough for her and thus she kept looking into until her weapons were far better than theirs' ever had been."

"Will the wound heal?" Felassan asked, worried that Fen'Harel could end up with this wound for the rest of his life.

At this Fen'Harel actually laughed. The sound was so foreign to Felassan that he stopped spreading the poultice.

"Of course it will heal. It's just taking longer because I have no desire to sleep for a week without end."

"I thought you liked sleeping because you could then be in the Fade for longer?"

"The Fade reflects the world we know. After a certain point there would be nothing new to find within the Fade." Fen'Harel rolled his shoulder once Felassan had bandaged the wound. "My thanks."

Felassan frowned. He sat down on the floor. There was silence for a long while between them. "Master," he started, speaking at last.

"Hmm?"

"Can you train me to be a mage?" he asked. "I want to be able to help if something happens. More than just being here as someone who just happens to know herbs or is there for when you wake after a long sleep. Abelas is a mage and Bor'assan is a hunter. They can both fight. Shouldn't I know how to fight too?"

There was a long moment where Fen'Harel just looked at him. It felt as if his eyes were boring through Felassan, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. He wanted to protect his master the next time a fight like that broke out, but it was more than just that.

"You do have the natural talent," Fen'Harel said after several long moments, "perhaps more than just a natural talent. I will train you, if it's your wish to learn."

"It is!" Felassan couldn't bring himself to smile despite the excitement flickering in him.

Fen'Harel bowed his head before he laid down on the floor to sleep.

Neither of them took the bed. Felassan knew it would be way too soft him and it wouldn't have been right anyway for him to have it when his master was sleeping on the floor. Perhaps Fen'Harel also didn't relish the idea for trying to sleep on a bed.

His last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep, were if his master had ever actually slept in a bed before or not. There was so much he didn't know about the god even with the brief memories he got every now and again from the very few high priests Fen'Harel had.

* * *

Elven phrases used:  
_Vallaslin _– Blood writing, the tattoos worn by the Dalish and slaves in ancient times  
_Hahren_ – elder  
_Da'len _– little child  
_Harellan _– trickster or traitor to one's kin. Used here as "traitor to one's kin."

* * *

**(Author's Note: **Felassan's _vallaslin_ was never described in the book, so here I am sort of playing off that. I am assuming in the book that his _vallaslin_ design was forgotten but is still a mark that he's a slave/follower (as the Dalish would take it) of Fen'Harel. Also, yes, I did decide he's a point of view character which is why I was sad he wasn't a character option.

"Hot blooded and cocky" Solas warning!**) **


	5. Chapter 4: Growing Unease

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 4: Growing Unease

The Fade appeared around Fen'Harel as it always did when he slept. He stood in the mists of the inn, colored with aura of the Fade, eyes closed as he listened. Even where he stood, the dreams of those who were currently asleep in the inn echoed to him. If he listened close enough he could enter another's dreams with ease. But this night none within the inn were his target.

Instead he felt himself shift into his wolf form. He phased through the wall and leapt lightly onto the thin, winding road which connected the inn to the main roads in the city. His claws clipped the stone paths lit even here in the Fade by the soft stones lining the streets. The people who wandered about were either dreamers or spirits drawn in to listen to the memories and emotions of those who lived in this city.

The Fade distorted the city just enough that Fen'Harel would never be confused between the two. Spirits could never give a pure reflection of the world no matter how hard they tried. Only the raw emotions of the people who lived here could be seen. Granted, for him, he could see the thin trails leading into the dreams of the citizens all around him. If he ran he would be able to find more dreamers outside of the city limits as well. He had never tested the distance between him and the dreamer who he slipped into the dreams of. The furthest he had gotten with this was to the Waking Sea. It hadn't felt any different other than it took him awhile to get there.

Tonight the target he had in mind was far from being halfway across Elvhenan. Instead they lived in the largest building within the city. Fen'Harel paused on the main road and lifted his head. His gaze was locked on the manor. He took off down the road. Before too long he was standing within the main hall of the manor. He sniffed around the entrance searching out the memories which might be the most helpful.

He nosed around the entrance for several long moments. A few memories wisped out around him but didn't point to what he was looking for. He sniffed at one for a while debating if it might just hold the information he was looking for or if he should just head up to where the noble slept in order to learn right from the source.

No, that wouldn't work. Fen'Harel stepped back from memories, his claw clicked on the polished floor. He needed to know the right strings to pull when in the noble's dream. To do this even the vaguest memories the spirits here mimicked would help.

"Perhaps I can help!"

Fen'Harel leapt into the air. His fur stood on end as he turned to see who had spoken. He glared up at the Spirit of Wisdom. "_Fenedhis_," he cursed. "You scared my fur off." Here in the Fade he could speak even in this form though his muzzle didn't move with the words. He shook himself and shifted back to elvhen form. "What do you mean, _ma falon_?" he asked her.

"I've shifted through some of these memories. The oldest ones were wonderful to behold, from the when this city was still a small town. I saw you reflected there, though the spirit didn't know who to really act." There was an amused tone to her voice.

"_Ir abelas, ma falon_," he stated with a bow of his. "It isn't ancient memories I am looking for this night. Rather newer ones which point to the unrest here."

"Hmm." She seemed to glide over to him. "I doubt the memories you seek will be in the entryway. Not unless you're hoping to see the very start of it."

"It was, though a dim hope it might very well be, it is still a hope." He watched as she moved between the memories. Unlike him she could just reach out instead of having to shift through them.

"Perhaps this one has what you seek, Solas." She had stopped before on rather dim memory.

His bare feet tapped against the ground. He reached out and touched the memory. Together he and Wisdom were drawn into the memory. He let her guide him deeper into it until they stood once more in the entryway. The lighting had changed from evening to the middle of the day. Sunlight, though dim from the aura of the Fade poured into the hall through the tinted glass windows.

The memory started to play out. The noble entered the manor and tossed his cloak into the hands of one of the slaves.

"He's here, your Excellency," stated one of the slaves with a low bow. "I showed him to the rooms as you instructed."

The noble's only reply to this was to strike the slave. "Get out of my sight, worm." He strode passed the slave and headed up the stairs.

Fen'Harel and Wisdom followed him. The memory led them into the highest chambers. The shadows were deep as if the memory didn't want to hold. There was a familiar feeling about the shadows. Fen'Harel shivered. Somehow this reminded him more of the Void rather than the Fade.

Wisdom backed away. "I don't like the feel of this memory." She vanished from the memory and he knew she would await him in the Fade once he had seen it. Here emotions were too corrupt. She had field to not be turned from Wisdom to Pride. While he was glad that he wouldn't lose his friend to a demon, without her there the memory felt all the colder.

The feeling of this memory prickled over his skin. It drew up old memories of his own. He forced down the thoughts of darkness and pain. Instead he focused on what the spirits of the Fade were trying to tell him.

"Is it done?" asked a familiar voice through the shadows.

"It will be. The attack is planned."

Attack?

Fen'Harel snapped out of the memory and gasped. The spirits who had been within it hadn't much liked those emotions either. He didn't blame them. The hunger for power had almost been overwhelming, but they had lingered long enough for him to get what he'd needed or some of it.

"What did you see?" Wisdom was beside him.

"The spirits couldn't handle the memory long enough," he told her, shaking a little from the feeling of the emotions that clung to him. "An attack is being planned," he told her. "I must find out what the noble wants to do."

"You will have to walk the lord's dreams." Her hand passed down his back as if he were still a wolf rather than an elf in that moment.

"I know." He bowed his head. The feeling of her and the Fade was easing down the painful memories the darkness had brought up. It had been the feeling he got from the spirits which had drawn on those memories in him. He took a deep breath. "_Ma serannas_," he whispered to Wisdom. He smiled up at the spirit.

He stood, shaking a little. A deep breath helped to steady him. It was in the past. _They _were sealed where they could no longer do harm to anyone. The thought helped to settle his heart further. It helped that Wisdom was still there with him as well. Her presence was a reminder at all which had been gained since he and the others had defeated the Forgotten.

"I won't ask you to come with," he told her and looked into her face. As always there were features outside of smoke. Really the only reason he knew her to be female was because of her voice.

"Nor would I come. I know you will always do what you must from the People and for your fellows, Solas." She looked into his eyes. "I hope you find an answer to the questions raised this night." With those words she turned and vanished.

He watched the spot she had gone for several long moments. A small breath escaped him. If he stood here much longer there wouldn't be time left in the night to slip into the noble's dreams. He moved towards the place he knew the noble's dream to be located in. As he walked, he shifted back into wolf form. His claws clicked against the polished floors, making his ears twitch a little at the noise.

The manor was also far too nice for his liking. It made him sick to think this noble held such wealth and yet refused to use it to help the People. He shoved the thought back as he padded into the room. He slipped with ease into the noble's dream.

A shiver raced through Fen'Harel at the sight which greeted him on entering. It was enough to make even a hunger demon lose its appetite. The moment he padded into sight of the noble all of it vanished. The dream bent to Fen'Harel's will instead of to the noble's.

For a moment the noble looked wildly around before his eyes locked onto Fen'Harel. "Creators!" he exclaimed and leapt to his feet.

Fen'Harel moved and as he did so his form shifted again, but not into an elf. His body grew with the effects of terror within the nightmare. The fur became darker than blackest night, turning to smoke as it flowed from his massive form. His claws formed ruts in the ground with each step. He knew his eyes were the worst of all in this form. Glowing green with the power of the Fade and the nightmare he now held sway over.

"F-Fen'Harel," the noble gasped and whimpered a little as he cowered before Fen'Harel.

A soft growl rumbled deep in Fen'Harel's throat. It sounded deep, almost like thunder thanks to his monstrous form. He prowled around the noble. "Answers, _Seth'lin_," he snarled, moving his massive maw to show long, razor sharp fangs as long as any sword and several times sharper.

The noble cowered, almost weeping at the sight of the fangs. How easy it was to instill fear into this elf. How simple. And how it made his stomach churn with sickness.

"A-answers, to what?" the noble stared at him. "I don't understand."

A growl fled Fen'Harel. He stopped pacing and looked down at the noble. His muzzle almost touched the noble's nose. He could see his massive head reflected in the noble's wide, fear filled eyes. Six, glowing eyes were seen there within the reflection.

"Don't play games. You know of what I speak." He curled his lip back.

The noble whimpered pathetically. Fen'Harel could just imagine the man wetting himself outside of the Fade right then. It was an almost amusing thought. He didn't hold back the laugh. The sharpness of it made the man cower all the more. And it helped to ease some of his dread at doing this to the fool, no matter what his crimes were, this never felt good or right.

"The-the plans to destroy," he swallowed hard, sweat rolled down his thick face. "To destroy the Temple of Mythal," he whispered the last part, voice cracking.

"Yes, very good." He stepped back and returned to prowling around the noble. He kept his pace slow, as if taunting the man. "Continue, _Seth'lin_."

"Andruil's priest, Bor'assan, came to me days ago. He said to gather my army and march against Mythal. That Andruil had been wronged by Mythal and Fen'Harel." He paled as Fen'Harel paused and looked at him.

A snarl deep in Fen'Harel's throat warned the noble that he should continue.

"I-I ordered my men to kill all followers of both gods, of you and Mythal." He stammered as he sank to his knees. "My forces are close to the temple now," his voice broke. "It'll be war. Andruil against Mythal," each word tumbled out with fear, growing weaker and weaker as the man's resolve crumbled.

Fen'Harel let loose a howl of rage at the words. "You dare!" he snarled. One massive paw forced the noble to the ground. "You dare strike Mythal!" his rage ripped into him as he bore down on the defenseless elf.

He stopped, muzzle touching the man's face and claws digging into the noble's shoulder. The fear reflected in the noble's eyes had frozen Fen'Harel mere seconds from tearing the man to shreds. What was he doing? He didn't believe they were gods, so why was he so upset over this noble going against Mythal?

His claw slid from the man's shoulder. "You have your life, inside and outside of the Fade, _Seth'lin_," Fen'Harel snarled, "remember who spared you." The words, though strong and full of rage rang hauntingly in his ears.

"_Ma serannas_, _ma serannas_ for your mercy, Great Fen'Harel." The noble seemed to wilt with his relief. Tears slid down his face.

Fen'Harel left the dream at a slow pace, though his mind screamed at him to run. Once outside of the noble's dream he collapsed on the ground, as near to a normal wolf as he could get once more. A whimper fled his throat. His stomach churned with nausea over what he had just done. He wasn't that. He'd never been that before. But the thought that this noble had turned against Mythal, it had sent such rage through him. Andruil was the one he should direct his rage at, not one of the People.

The Fade seemed to spin around him with his own rushing, unsettling thoughts. Fen'Harel whimpered again and squeezed his eyes shut.

For several long moments he just lay there. Then his breathing started to ease. He felt himself calming, the anger and fear of the moments passing him by. As the emotions left him, cold and shaking in their wake, his mind moved to what the noble had said. Mythal was going to be attacked. He doubted Bor'assan would sit this out either. Not if it meant missing a chance to free Andruil. And Fen'Harel didn't want to think what would happen if Andruil was loosed upon the world with her current state of mind.

He stood and gave himself a good shake. The People and Mythal had to be his priority. If he stopped Bor'assan then Mythal would be safe, the passphrase would never pass to Bor'assan, and thus the People wouldn't be thrust into war because of the ones who were supposed to be protecting them.

*~ X ~*

The soft light flittering in through the window roused Felassan. He groaned when his eyes opened to the dawn sun blaring right into his eyes. Shadow passed over his eyes as he moved his arm to block out the sun. It had to be early yet. Still, he couldn't hear his master moving or awake, Fen'Harel had risen early each morning. Though, Felassan didn't have a clue why this was.

After a long moment, Felassan let out a long breath and sat up. He lowered his arm only once the warmth of the sun passed away from his face. Sure enough, his master as still sound asleep and in the same position he had been when had first fallen asleep. There was a stillness about him which unnerved Felassan.

His master was still breathing, but the breath was shallow. In the same moment Felassan knew that this was natural. It was odd; perhaps one of the former priests was passing on information to him again. But he knew that his master wasn't in a healing slumber, just asleep and deep, _deep_ within the Fade.

A shiver raced through Felassan at the thought of the Fade. He had slipped from his dreams several times and into the Fade proper. The place scared him. The first time had been when he was really young. He'd woken in the slave quarters, screaming. It had taken his mother singing to him softly to calm him. Their master back then had been furious with Felassan. His mother had taken the beating in his stead. Since that night, he knew to avoid the demons because it would have only done more harm to his mother. When she-she had vanished, he had thought on it a few times and almost been tempted to accept their offer to help him find his mother. Later, they had offered him freedom.

It was thanks to Fen'Harel that Felassan hadn't accepted those offers. If the god hadn't arrived when he had, Felassan knew he wouldn't an elf any more. The thought terrified him.

He frowned. Could gods even be possessed? He would have to ask his master when he woke. It was a terrifying thought if they could. While he had only seen a little of his master's power, he knew each god wielded abilities far beyond even the most power of mages within Elvhenan.

The Foci were used to absorb some of the power of the god it belonged to. Their power and their knowledge, that was. Felassan had seen his master's Foci once before. It had been right after he'd become High Priest. The Orb was small and gave off a green glow when his master used it. It hadn't been actived long. The second Fen'Harel had seen Felassan he had tucked the Foci away. Even still, the amount of power stored in those objects could be enough to destroy this world, or so the voices of the past priests told Felassan several times. It was why it took an extremely powerful mage to unlock them.

Felassan blinked. The sun had been moving across the small room while he'd been lost in thought. His master had yet to wake. He just lay there on his side, unmoving. Felassan swallowed back some of his nerves. He crawled over to his master and placed to fingers, as gently as he could, on his master's neck. A strong pulse beat through the vein. Air rushed from Felassan's longs. At least he knew his master was in a natural sleep or had confirmed it, more over.

"Master?" Felassan touched his master's shoulder.

When Fen'Harel didn't react to the touch, Felassan shook him a little. This did nothing to rouse Fen'Harel. He must have been _way_ too deep into the Fade to even realize Felassan was there.

Felassan sat back with a long, low breath. If his master didn't wake soon there wouldn't be daylight left to gather the supplies they needed. If they didn't get those supplies, they would be here for another day if not longer. Felassan, for one, didn't want to stay in this place longer than they needed to. The fight between his master and that thug the other night was still fresh on his mind.

"That's it!" Felassan grinned and stood as an idea came to him. "I can gather what we need and be back here before Master wakes." He nodded to himself. It was good plan. He could take the horns and leather to trade them for what they would need.

A soft sound came from his master. Felassan glanced at him, but Fen'Harel didn't wake. His face remained expressionless as it often did even when he was awake. A breath escaped Felassan. He hadn't spoken loud enough to wake his master, that was a relief.

Without making too much noise, Felassan gathered the leather and horns before he wrote a note. The note was just in case his master did wake before he returned. Though, he hoped that wouldn't happen since this was meant to surprise his master and help just a little so they could be off all the faster.

The leather and horns were tucked securely in the bag as he hoisted it on his shoulders. With one last glance at his master to make certain he was still sound asleep, Felassan nodded to himself before he left the room.

Outside the day was bright and warm. There was a soft breeze coming from the north and, if Felassan looked towards the northern sky, he could just make out clouds heavy with rain. The rain was at least a few hours from hitting them which was all the time Felassan needed.

The city was alive with activity. People moved from place to place, talking, laughing, or smiling. It was in sharp contrast to the night before. But, if Felassan looked, there was an unease prickling from the slaves. Their tattooed faces were crinkled with a frown of fear and worry deeper than what he was used to seeing.

He passed by a few of them. They quieted at once, noting his _vallaslin_ but also his finer clothes. He shivered at the looks of distain they shot in his direction. It wasn't like his clothing was really, really nice. It looked common and a little travel worn. His feet were bare like his master's and he wore a simple, if not clean, cloak over his shoulders, the hood down because of the nice weather.

"What's this?" a hand on his shoulder drew Felassan to a stop. "Well, well, if it isn't the boy from the inn."

He turned and was greeted at once by the sight of the thug he'd stopped his master from killing last night. A grin spread across the thug's face at the sight of Felassan's _vallaslin_.

"A slave?" he let loose a guffaw which sounded all the darker because of his almost mischievous grin. The thug came in close, until his face was less than inch from Felassan's. His hot, heavy breath blew right into Felassan's face with each word. "Do you know what we do to slaves, boy?"

"Let them go?" Felassan asked with as winning a smile he could muster.

"Resell them, especially ones belonging to traitor gods like Mythal and Fen'Harel." The next moment Felassan felt a sharp pain through his shoulders as the pack was wrenched from his back. He was thrust into the hard path. "All your goods here, are ours now. As are you, _elvhen'alsa_. Here." He thrust the pack into one of his lackey's arms. "The boy's mine."

Felassan was forced to his feet. "You're making a mistake. My master—"

"Won't give a shit that you're gone, _elvhen'alsa_," the thug laughed. "And if he does come after him, well, I'm far more prepared than last night. He'll be dead within seconds."

Dread wormed into Felassan's stomach. It was then he remembered his master's words from last night, the warning he had given Felassan. He'd been an idiot to leave his master's side and even more of one for having his hood down in broad daylight.

The thugs threw him into one of the cages where other slaves had been gathered. He looked over the groups and noted the older woman from the other day was also here. She was seated on the ground, her back pressed to the bars of the cage, eyes hallow as she stared at the ground. A shiver raced through Felassan. He had hoped to never be in one of these cages again. He sank to the ground, legs pressed to his chest.

Some high priest he was. He had just landed himself back as a slave and worse, had lost everything they had with them. Perhaps it was better if Fen'Harel didn't come for him this time around. He closed his eyes, fighting back tears. He was seventeen and shouldn't cry. He was supposed to be a high priest and he had never once seen Abelas cry. He swallowed hard.

Cold replaced the warmth of the day. Felassan blinked open his eyes and looked up. The heavy clouds he had seen earlier had moved in over the city. He must have dozed off at some point.

"Pathetic, the lot of them."

Felassan turned his head to see a large, round faced man now near to the slavers. He blinked. This man wore too much finery which meant he had to be a noble. His stomach churned with unease.

"I'll pay half what you're asking for the lot of them," the noble was speaking with the thug who had brought Felassan here.

"Mythal's tits, no!" snapped the thug or slaver as he really was. "Some of them are high class. Take the one I got only this morning, a hard worker, young and strong. He's worth far more than half!"

Felassan shivered. They were talking about him. And he didn't much like it either. It made him feel as if he was nameless once more, nothing more than a bug to be crushed by the nobles.

"Tch," the noble made a disgusted noise. "None of them look worth more than half of what you're asking."

The sound of thunder rumbled overhead. It was echoed by the soft tap-tap of wood against stone. Felassan turned towards the sound and – felt his heart fly with relief. His master was striding towards them, hood up and staff tapping against the ground. Felassan watched as his master took out the two guards with the slightest of gestures. They fell to the ground without a sound. He continued passed them, heading for the slaver from last night and the noble.

Felassan stood, grinning. He couldn't help himself from doing so. His master had come and now the slavers were about to see why it was said to avoid dealing in the slave trade when Fen'Harel was close.

The noble and lead slaver didn't notice Fen'Harel until he stopped only paces away. "Where in the name of the Creators did you come from?" the noble demanded, jumping a little at the sight of Felassan's master.

Fen'Harel ignored the noble. "You've taken the wrong child," his voice cool, calm, and even.

The first drop of rain struck the ground between Fen'Harel and the slaver. There was a long moment of silence as the rain started to fall around them. Then the slaver laughed. "And what are you going to do about it? This isn't last night. You're not going to get the upper hand so easily. Especially since you're a follower of Fen'Harel."

At the slaver's words the noble seemed to grin. "Guards, restrain this man, he's one of the enemy!"

The guards around the noble made to do so but then stopped. It was then they noticed what Felassan had been staring at all this time. The rain wasn't hitting his master at all. It seemed to slide around him, falling to the ground without once touching him.

"I truly detest slavers." Fen'Harel's voice held ice to it now.

Felassan felt his heart racing. He remembered the screams all too well from the night Fen'Harel had freed him.

"Fire!" the slaver shouted at his men.

Arrows raced towards Fen'Harel.

Wind whipped out around Fen'Harel's feet. The gale swept up around him catching the arrows midflight. Moments later a massive wolf stood where his master had moments before. "No one takes a high priest of Fen'Harel and lives to tell about it!" the growl rumbled through the air.

Felassan looked away unable to bring himself to watch. Screams filled the air and he noticed the other slaves cower back, covering their faces. When next Felassan looked his master was moving towards the cages. The slaver was pinned between Fen'Harel and the cage.

"W-what are you?"

Magic crackled from Fen'Harel's body, strong and powerful: dangerous. Passed his master the noble had fallen to the ground, mud staining his finery. Fire raced through the air, mixing with rain. It lashed out at those who had tried to attack Fen'Harel from behind.

"What am I?" the words were harsh, and spoken low. Fen'Harel bore down upon the man. "If I even unleashed a thimble of my power, you would be shrieking, _Seth'lin_." His features were dark with rage. "I won't make the same mistake as last night."

The slaver scampered back until his back pressed hard against the cage bars. Faster than anyone could blink, Felassan reached through the bars and took hold of the slaver from behind. He used his entire body weight and pulled back against the slaver's neck. His master knelt down and placed his hand over Felassan's.

"You needn't kill," his master whispered to him. None of the rage was there anymore.

Felassan released the slaver. He fell to the ground, coughing. The next moment, his struggles stopped as his skin frosted over his hand. Fen'Harel lifted his staff and brought it down hard through the air. A scream filled the sky, louder than even the rumbling of thunder.

Slaver struggled to his feet and raced away. Those few who hadn't been put to sleep followed after. The noble and his guard raced off as well. None seemed to want to test to see how much power Fen'Harel really held.

Fen'Harel watched them while Felassan hung his head. "I'm sorry, Master. I should have listened to you."

"Yes, you should have," stated Fen'Harel. His sharp eyes were on Felassan, but there was a softness to them that hadn't been there before. "But, you did just cause the freedom of all the People here." He waved his hand and the locks popped off all of the cages. "To my side, Felassan."

Felassan obeyed the second he heard the order.

Fen'Harel waved his hand once more. Felassan felt his mouth fall open as he watched the _vallaslin_ vanish first from the slaves closest to them then slowly spreading out to those further back. A gasp escaped his master and he slumped onto his staff as the last slave's _vallaslin_ vanished.

"_Ar lasa mala revas_!" Fen'Harel's voice carried over the rain and thunder to the very back of the cages. "Use that freedom well!" He bowed his head to them before he turned to Felassan.

"You freed all of them, just like that?" the words came out as a breath.

Beside him, Fen'Harel gave a tired smile. "I freed those you were with the last time as well. You were just not paying attention then."

Felassan gave a nervous laugh. "Master," he started.

"Later, _da'len_." Fen'Harel had already retrieved their pack while the former slaves slowly stepped out from the cages. "Right now we need to make haste to the Temple of Mythal."

"Which one?" Felassan asked.

"Sadly, the furthest one from here. Take the slaver's hart."

It was then Felassan noticed the majestic beast standing near the halla. It's dark coat all the darker in the rain. Massive horns spread wide from his thin head.

"What about you, Master?"

"If it's trained well enough I can run beside it or ahead if it isn't."

Before Felassan could protest his master had shifted into the giant, white wolf and padded to the edge of the city to wait on Felassan. There was no time ponder what his master had in mind or why he didn't want to ride. Felassan raced over to the hart as he swung the pack back over his back. He managed to get up into the saddle. It was a long run to the next eluvian or he assumed it was. Perhaps his master just didn't want to try to use one of the ones under this noble's control.

Whatever was going on, Felassan was just happy he hadn't been sold back into slavery right then. He was happy to serve Fen'Harel and not some greedy noble. He was just happy.

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Elven phrases used:  
_Ir abelas, ma falon _– I'm very sorry, my friend  
_Ma serannas_ – My thanks or thank you  
_Seth'lin _– thin blood (insult)  
_Elvhen'alsa _– dirt elves (insult)

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**(Author's Note: **Yup, Spirit of Wisdom will be a reoccurring character. Given the way Solas reacts in the game, it sounds like she was his closest and dearest friend. Thus I want her to be an extremely important character in this story.**) **

**A Request: **If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review. I love hearing what people have to say about the story so far.


	6. Chapter 5: Warning Unheard

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 5: Warning Unheard

Several days had passed since Fen'Harel had raced from the city with Felassan following. The boy had pushed the hart to its limits while Fen'Harel had raced ahead. His mind wouldn't stop whirling with a fear had not felt since the Forgotten had finally been sealed away.

All of this felt unreal to him as he continued on, paws flying over the ground even as fatigue dragged him down. Once, long ago, he had admired Andruil for her skill in combat and passionate drive to stop the Forgotten. She'd been so driven she had started to spend more time in the abyss than any of them. Fen'Harel remembered the feeling of the abyss all too well and knew it was why she had started to turn on them, why Mythal had sealed her away. But a part of him always remembered the little girl who only wanted to hunt whatever she could find. To spend each down outside trying to bring down something new. Had her nature been what drove to this madness? What if she could be brought back to the sweet girl he had once known?

What of Mythal? Of Elgar'nan? Falon'Din? Dirthamen? Sylaise? June? And Ghilan'nain? Was this their fate?

His legs seared as he pushed himself to go faster. He and Felassan had long since passed into the thick forest which surrounded Mythal's main temple. They would be there soon. He could already make out the sounds of the army. He skidded to a stop, flanks heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

The soft sound of the hart's protests came from behind Fen'Harel. It gave a fearful noise as it had whenever Felassan had drawn it close to Fen'Harel. "_Ma serannas_, Fen'Harel," the boy fell off the hart and sprawled on the ground, breathing hard.

Fen'Harel ignored the boy. He moved softly to the small trees. His paws returned to feet and hands as he shifted back to his elven form. From behind the tree he could just make out the army camped in the valley below where he and Felassan stood. The army was between them and the temple.

"Master?" Felassan was at his side. The heavy breathing caught in the boy's throat. "Whoa," he breathed the word. "Are you thinking of fighting them, Master?"

At this, Fen'Harel looked at the boy, both eyebrows raised. "Do you wish die, _da'len_?"

"Er, no."

"Then don't ask such a ridicules question. Of course we're not going to fight them." Not unless they had to at least. "We're going around them." He moved back into the shadow of the ancient trees and started off on foot this time.

The soft sound of Felassan following came to him and was echoed by the harder sound of the hart's hooves on the thick foliage of the forest. He doubted by Felassan having to shush it a little that it wasn't liking being this close to Fen'Harel. A part of him couldn't blame the hart. After all he spent much his time awake as a wolf. The hart most likely saw him as more of a wolf than an elf.

There was no sound around them but that of the forest. Nonetheless, Fen'Harel felt like a trapped animal walking ever closer to some unknown, dreadful fate. He suppressed a shiver at the thought. Right then he needed to focus on making certain Mythal didn't even up injured and risk having the passphrase fall into Bor'assan's hands.

It was pure luck, Fen'Harel decided, that they managed to make it Mythal's temple without encountering any of the army's patrols. The temple was massive, a wall surround the inner portions with only one large door acting as the entrance into the outer sanctum of the temple. The doors were opened right then and two sentinels stood guard on either side. Their eyes tracked Fen'Harel and Felassan as they crossed the threshold.

Beside him, Felassan shivered. "It fells… odd here," the boy whispered.

A smile curled Fen'Harel's thin lips. "You're feeling the power of Mythal right now," he stated. "We're in her home right now after all."

The boy nodded but his violet eyes remained uneasy as the two of them passed through the long tunnel which led under the great wall. They came out to a beautiful sight. More sentinels could be seen. Two were cleaning the statues on either side of the long bridge. The Temple rested across the bridge and was where he knew Mythal would be at this moment.

Felassan gasped. Fen'Harel glanced at the boy to see his eyes had grown wide and mouth was open. It was a rather amusing sight. "Is your temple like this, master?" Felassan breathed the question.

The only reply Fen'Harel had to this question was to turn his gaze back on the temple. Below them, two pilgrims paused before the statues guarding the bridge. There had been no slack in defenses built into the temple. Only a few would be permitted to pass through without paying proper respect to Mythal. Those who didn't could end up paying a terrible price. One which involved Mythal's wrath and _that_ was best avoided.

"I've not visited the temple in centuries," Fen'Harel replied at last. It was the truth. In fact, most of his time he had spent away from the main Temple of Fen'Harel and the pressures of people seeing him as a god when he didn't want to be viewed as such. He wondered if people still visited the temple like these pilgrims were and if the sentinels there still guarded it even though he had tried to dismiss them from that duty long ago.

"I wish I could see it," Felassan said beside Fen'Harel, his voice wistful.

Fen'Harel looked at the boy again. Despite being his High Priest, Felassan had never set foot in any of the temples dedicated to Fen'Harel. Not even the ritual which had made him into the high priest took place within the temple.

"Come, _da'len_, we need to speak with Mythal before the forces arrive." He moved down the steps and headed for the bridge.

Felassan raced after him. "Master." He caught up to Fen'Harel. "Where will she be within the temple?" he asked.

"Hush," Fen'Harel warned as they approached to the two pilgrims.

The one closest to Fen'Harel turned and smiled at him. "Have you two come to pay respects to Mythal as well?" she asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Fen'Harel replied with a bow of his head.

Her eyes flickered down Fen'Harel's form. She laughed a little at the sight of what he wore and the staff he held. "You seem more like a follower of Fen'Harel than Mythal."

To this he only smiled at the girl. One of the sentinels glanced at them. "You may pass," he told all four them. "Pay your respects to Mythal." The barrier which had blocked the bridge was lifted.

The soft rumbled of the waterfall filled the air as an almost soothing background noise. The girl who had spoken to him fell into step beside Fen'Harel. "Why have you come to pray to the Great Protector?" asked the girl. She flushed then. "Oh, sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

Fen'Harel cocked an eyebrow at her. It was odd but this girl didn't seem to notice the feeling of power he knew surrounded him right then. Perhaps it was caused by the fact this was Mythal's temple.

"I'm not here to pray," he told her. "Rather to deliver a warning."

"O-oh."

The massive doors at the end of the bridge were already wide open to welcome pilgrims who came during the day. The four of them passed into the shadow of the temple. Not much to his surprise Abelas was waiting. The High Priest of Mythal kept his eyes locked on Fen'Harel even as the girl beside Fen'Harel gave a sharp intake at the sight of him.

"Y-you're High Priest Abelas," she breathed. The other pilgrim was also in shock but the stoic figure of Abelas ignored them both.

"_Andaran atish'an_," Abelas greeted Fen'Harel with a slight bow of his head. "My mistress felt your arrival and is curious to why you've come to her sanctum. She said to pass on that the last time you were here ended in a rather amusing but distracting game."

Fen'Harel cocked an eyebrow. "I don't recall this," he lied. It had been rather assuming. Mythal and he had gotten into a bet that had ended with them trying to see how long it took for the People to realize she was Mythal without her formal robes. It had been humorous to see her distress and then the reaction of the People when they realized it was Mythal they had been speaking with the whole time.

"She said to pass on these words, 'No matter how good the beat, I refuse any game you have to offer this time.'" Abelas didn't say more though Fen'Harel knew there had to have been a few choice words there at the end Mythal had added. Especially since he had ended up with a quite a bit at the end of that "game." It had been centuries ago though, back when all of them were still united and it had been fun to visit each in turn within their sanctums.

"I merely wish to speak with Mythal, is she here?" Fen'Harel asked.

"She is." Abelas turned to the pilgrams. "Pay your respects to Mythal," he told them before gesturing to Fen'Harel. "She awaits you in the center of the temple." To Felassan, he added, "You must wait here."

"What? Why?" the boy glared at the older high priest. "I'm to just let my master walk into the center of another's temple, just like that?"

"Wait here, Felassan," Fen'Harel told the boy.

"But," he started to protest. "All right, fine." He leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

Fen'Harel fell into step behind Abelas. The sentinels of Mythal surrounded him. They were treating him like an enemy and he knew all too well why that was. He was another "god" deep within the home of a fellow. For all they knew he could be here to kill her. And such things had been attempted in the past, just not by him. Andruil had attempted it, at least he assumed she had given the amount of defenses now set up and how alert the sentinels were around Fen'Harel. Though, all of this was pointless. If he had been here to harm Mythal, a few sentinels and Abelas wouldn't have posed much of a problem. Really the only problem would have been Mythal herself.

The temple was just as beautiful as Fen'Harel remembered it being. He followed the sentinels deep into the temple. There was no going through the rituals the pilgrims had to take, only a long, wide walk around the barricaded portions of the temple. Then they stepped out into the most protected part of the temple. In the distance Fen'Harel could see the gentle glow coming from the _Vir'abelasan_.

Not to his surprise Mythal stood just below the well, her eyes locked onto him. "What brings you here after all these centuries, Fen'Harel?" her voice was sharp with suspicion.

He stepped down towards her, the sentinels keeping close in case he tried anything. "Quite the welcome, I half expected them to take my staff from me on entering as well."

"After Andruil's attempt to take my power, can you blame them?" Mythal asked.

"No. No, of course not." Fen'Harel stopped several feet from her. "But given the fact I aided in trapping her, a less chilly welcome would have been more appreciated, Mythal."

Her eyes narrowed at this. "Why are you here, Fen'Harel?"

"To the point then. A noble has sent his army here to take the temple."

"I'm aware. The sentinels have been watching them since they entered the forest."

"He sent them by order to Bor'assan."

This did get a reaction from Mythal. Her yellow eyes widened. "Andruil's high priest?" She frowned then laughed. "Do you really think a high priest possesses a threat, Fen'Harel? If you do, you've lost your touch."

"I don't know if he does or doesn't. What I do know is that he will stop at nothing free his mistress."

"As is expected of all high priests," she replied with a small smile twisted her own, thin lips. "No army can take this temple. Even if I were absent my sentinels would be able to repel them with ease. You are welcome to stay and observe if you so wish, Fen'Harel. If not, then return to your own temple." She flicked her wrist dismissing him as she turned away from him.

"Mythal, you shouldn't just dismiss this," he stepped towards her, but the sentinels stopped him. He stared at her. Only months ago they had fought side by side like in the old days and now he was being treated like this. "If I was here to harm you," he started, voice low, "do you really think I wouldn't have killed your sentinels by now? I have always been your friend and will always be one." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm here to help," he told her, "nothing more or less."

There was no reply to this, she just moved away from him. It was a clear dismissal. His jaw tightened a little at her dismissal. For a moment he debated calling after her, but decided better of it and turned on his heel. The sentinels made to fall in around him.

"I can see myself out," he snapped at them and strode through their ranks. He stopped in the last room before the ritual chambers and took a deep breath. It took a lot right then to not hit something. He took another deep breath, trying to make certain he wouldn't take out the anger flickering in him on Felassan.

Once he was certain he had calmed enough, he headed out into the ritual chambers. The two pilgrims were just finishing up when he exited. They paused and looked in his direction. There was curiosity in their eyes, but he didn't want to talk to any of the People. He bowed his head and made certain his hood was still up before he turned and started for the exit. Mythal didn't want his help, thus there was no point in remaining here any longer.

"Fen'Harel!" The sound of his name being called made him stop and turn. Abelas raced over to him. The lead sentinel and high priest looked Fen'Harel in the eye. "We must speak." The priest moved off before Fen'Harel could protest.

A small breath escaped Fen'Harel. He started after the priest.

"My lady hasn't seen the army," Abelas told him in hushed tones. "Or the fact that Bor'assan holds Andruil's Foci," his voice had dropped lower. "I'm uncertain if he can wield it or not."

"You haven't told Mythal this?" Fen'Harel asked.

"My lady states no matter the threat we can overcome it." The words held a little hint of unease and this was enough for Fen'Harel to know that Abelas had been unable to report this little fact to Mythal because of her over confidence. "If you were to stay as the guest she suggested," Abelas started.

Fen'Harel sighed. "All right, I'll stay." Though what good it would do, he didn't know. She hadn't believed that a high priest could be a threat. A part of Fen'Harel didn't blame her for this. Despite her reaction and his own doubts, he knew that there was away Bor'assan could surprise the both of them. Mythal was still his closest friend in the waking world no matter how she had just received him.

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Elven phrases used:  
_Andaran atish'an _– a more formal greeting

* * *

**(Author's Note: **Okay so I realize that I used _Harellan_ in one of the chapters and it is incorrect to have it as an elven word during this time period, but I really wanted to have something that would get under Fen'Harel's skin like that.

Another somewhat heavy chapter. I am sorry about this and that it's a lot shorter than the last one. Part way through I had a really good idea for the next chapter and thus moved what was to be the next three or so pages to the chapter after next.

Last note, I did realize after posting these chapters I got the timeline wrong. It's hard to tell sometimes because of the way the timeline is on the wiki, but I finally figured out that I was about 5,500 years off of where we need to be. The elves ruled Thedas 65 centuries ago (6,500 years) so yes, Solas is really, _really_ old.**) **

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**A Request: **If you are enjoying this story, please leave a review. I love hearing what people have to say about the story so far.


	7. Chapter 6: Night before the Storm

**A Request: **If you are enjoying this story, please, please leave a review. I love hearing what people have to say about the story so far.

* * *

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 6: Night before the Storm

Dusk had fallen over the Temple of Mythal. Fen'Harel had retreated to the rooms given to him by the sentinels. He sat in one of the chairs, his sketchbook open on his lap and a piece of charcoal in hand. But his hand didn't move over the still blank paper, eyes locked, unseeing at the pages.

Why had Mythal acted at that way towards him? Out of all of the others he was the one least likely to attack her. When the first rifts between them had started after the Forgotten had been defeated, Fen'Harel had tried for peace. Minor battles had erupted instead. He had sided with one or another during the beginning, but as the skirmishes turned to battles and minor wars, he had backed out. There had been too much pain in trying to choose which of them he should help. The only other who had ended up backing out of the battles was Falon'Din. He had grown weary of the death they caused and the need to aid the People with their dead.

Once Falon'Din had told Fen'Harel that such death hurt more than any physical pain he could receive. His father, Elgar'nan, had pressured him into siding with him once, but Falon'Din had backed out when he realized it was Fen'Harel that Elgar'nan was aiming to attack.

The battle had ended with Fen'Harel telling Elgar'nan that such battles were pointless. None of them could be killed and all this did was cause the mortals who served them pain.

That had been many centuries ago. Falon'Din had changed since then. He, like the others, now longed for power and no longer cared who got into his path to achieve it. After the battle to stop Falon'Din, who had been maddened by power, Fen'Harel had left his temple, deciding to try to live as mortal. Not that he had done too well with that thus far. He still used his powers, he still rushed to the aid of children like Felassan; he still wore the fine robes and gems of Godhood. In the end he had only been kidding himself in thinking that he could pass as a mortal or try to live as one.

Granted, what Falon'Din didn't go as far as what Andruil had attempted with Mythal. Falon'Din had never sought to kill any of them and take their power. His desire had been aimed towards the People and not the power of the other "Gods."

Sometimes Fen'Harel just wished they could go back to the way they had been long before power had started to corrupt their minds. The moments just after the Forgotten had been defeated and all of them still unified as a family.

*~ The Past ~*

A soft, wonderful sound melded with the rustling of leaves. It whispered into the wind and wound around Fen'Harel up into the tall, ancient trees. He looked up from his sketchbook. The music came from a figure close to a small grouping of animals. He swayed with the sound of the music, long robes moving in the wind, eyes closed and fingers dancing nimbly over the bone flute.

The fine robes looked out of place on the slight form. It was still odd to see any of them wearing anything outside of the robes and armor they had forged to stay alive during the long battles. Yet, it was good to see something happy rather than the overwhelming darkness which had been their lives.

As if sensing Fen'Harel's gaze, the other stopped playing and looked up the slope. He climbed the slope and settled on the boulder beside Fen'Harel. "What are you think of, Uncle?"

"The past."

This was Falon'Din. The boy had always been gentle and sweet, especially to those who were dying. His music reflected that side of him, mixing with the softness of the forest's dappled light and the gentle breeze which stirred the leaves in spring.

"That's a rather dangerous thought path," stated Falon'Din. "I know there's a lot I would rather forget." Falon'Din looked out over the beautiful forest. The silence between them was pleasant and warm just as the day was. "Uncle," Falon'Din started, breaking the silence, "do you remember what the world was like before any of us started fighting the Forgotten?"

Uncle, it was a title and name Falon'Din and his brother, Dirthamen, had given Fen'Harel many centuries ago when they had both been little. They were related to only one another, Mythal, and Elgar'nan by blood, but that hadn't stopped either boy from viewing Fen'Harel as a member of their family.

"Dark," was all Fen'Harel could think of to answer Falon'Din's question. That was true enough. There had been pain and darkness in the world before Mythal, Elgar'nan, and he had first started to fight the Forgotten. Most of his memory from that time was dim and he could only recall small glimpses of it.

His earliest clear memory had been when he first met with Mythal and Elgar'nan, stumbling upon them as they debated if they alone had to the power to stop the Forgotten. They had never seen another like them and he most certainly hadn't. From that moment on, they had joined forces and became fast allies against the tide of darkness threatening the People. Falon'Din and Dirthamen had come into the world during the war as had the others. Fen'Harel doubted they had ever known anything outside of the battle, where the terror lay in bowing to the Forgotten.

"That's not much of an answer," Falon'Din pouted, looking more than a little disappointed at Fen'Harel's lack of an answer.

Fen'Harel smiled at the younger man. "Perhaps, but it is the best I can offer. Have you tried asking Mythal or Elgar'nan?"

At this Falon'Din snorted. "I'd be more likely to get a lecture for asking from them. Elgar'nan and Mythal never speak of it."

Another figure appeared through the trees and picked his way carefully up towards them. This one looked almost identical to Falon'Din outside of the heavier robes and emotionless expression. This was Dirthamen, the twin spirit of Falon'Din. He moved with a simple; yet, dangerous grace, his eyes never once leaving them.

"Dirthamen!" Falon'Din called to his brother, leaping to his feet and waving at the other. "Are the others coming?"

Dirthamen paused and blinked up at Falon'Din. Then he bowed his head as if saying, "Yes." It was rare for Dirthamen to speak. In all the centuries Fen'Harel had known the child had spoken only when he had to and otherwise kept silent, watchful. But when he did speak, it was always worthwhile to listen.

"Great." Falon'Din leapt off the boulder and lifted his flute once more.

The music made Dirthamen blink. He watched his brother returned to the bottom of the slope before he turned and climbed up to Fen'Harel. Wordless and silent, he settled where Falon'Din had been moments before. Neither of them spoke. It was pleasant to just sit there and watch as Falon'Din played for the animals and trees. This silence and peaceful scene wouldn't last for long, he knew this. The moment the others arrived, all of it would shatter so easily.

Fen'Harel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could dream here, he realized with a sudden jolt of joy. He could dream anywhere in Elvhenan now. With the main threat gone, he could see what was lost and so much more. The thought was exciting and terrifying all at once.

The soft sound of Dirthamen moving warned Fen'Harel what was about to happen. He opened his eyes just in time to see a woman leap at him from below. Sharp pain shot through his back as she slammed into him. Her nose touched his and she grinned at him, brown eyes alight with joy.

"You're finally mine, Fen'Harel," her grin widened before her expression turned soft. She leaned in towards him.

Fen'Harel leaned back, his body going limp. Her hold loosened. Quick as a flash, Fen'Harel wiggled free of her. He slid down the boulder, rolled and landed catlike on the ground. He straightened and dusted the leaves and twigs from his robes.

"Not fair!"

Fen'Harel looked up to see Andruil glaring down at him.

"I finally caught you and still you're slip away. One day, Fen'Harel, one day I swear you'll be mine."

At this both of Fen'Harel's eyebrows rose. "Only once you realize wit is sharper than any blade, Andruil." And even then he doubted he would ever be with her. Andruil only wanted him because he slipped away at every possible second or outwitted her to get away.

She let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "You'll be mine. No prey gets away from me, no matter how skilled that prey is."

This just made Fen'Harel shake his head. He wasn't some animal to be hunted and he did wish that she would realize this. Granted, this was Andruil he was thinking about. It was like asking him to stop wandering the Fade while he slept. Her nature was to hunt and to kill. If he was her prey, he just hoped she wouldn't dagger him the next time she managed to catch him off guard.

Instead of heading back up the boulder, Fen'Harel moved around it. Two of the others had arrived while he had been avoiding playing Andruil's game.

"_Aneth ara, _June, Sylaise," Fen'Harel greeted the two of them with a bow of his head.

"_Aneth ara_, Fen'Harel," June said with barely hidden humor in his voice. "I see my sister is still chasing after you."

"And is having just as much… success as she always does," Sylaise added as she looked up at Andruil, her expression was gentle despite the humor in her voice. "You should know him well enough by now to know he will always slither away out of your reach, sister."

"Funny." Andruil leapt down to join them below the boulder.

"Where's Ghilan'nain?" asked June as he glanced around.

Fen'Harel had spotted white fur move between the trees earlier, but didn't point out this to June. It was game, one which Ghilan'nain took great joy in playing on the craftsman. It was amusing to say the least, but he wasn't certain if now was the time to play it. Though, he also didn't know why Elgar'nan had called all of them to a forest either.

A soft sound came to Fen'Harel and he moved out of the way as a beautiful, white halla charged passed. June let out a shout of shock and leapt back. The halla leapt at him and started to shift. Instead of a full grown female halla landing on June it was young woman instead. Her white hair fell out behind her as the two of them fell to the ground and rolled for a moment.

It took June a great deal to untangle himself from her. She stayed on the ground, laughing at the disgruntled expression June wore. "You should see your face, June."

"Very funny, Ghilan'nain." He brushed off his robes.

"I thought it was," Andruil laughed from where she stood, eyes shining. "Nice catch, Ghilan'nain. Now if you hold him, he has to be yours and yours alone for the time you state."

"Because that worked _so_ well with you when you captured Fen'Harel," June stated in dry tones.

Andruil bristled. "If Falon'Din had kept his nose out of it, it would have worked just great."

A sore note filled the air before the music stopped. "Hey!" Falon'Din scampered back up to them. "I wasn't the one who decided tying Uncle to a tree was a good idea."

"It was until you stumbled in and asked what was happening. I turned back and he was gone."

Fen'Harel let out a small breath and settled himself on the ground next to Dirthamen once more. Here it came, bickering.

"What will you do next? Claim all must pay respect to you on killing a beast then tie him up for that?" Falon'Din demanded. "Perhaps you'll figure out another way to convince Uncle to _bed_ you," he spat the word.

"Enough!" a harsh voice snapped.

Falon'Din stiffened. All of them looked in the direction the voice had come from. The last two of their group strode towards them side by side. The first was Mythal, but she hadn't been the one who had spoken. Instead another stood beside her, casting a shadow of her. His features were sharp and stern, eyes flashing with the light of sun and hair the color of golden flames. The plain robes he wore looked very out of place on him. This was Elgar'nan, the eldest of them and their leader.

"I didn't call you here to bicker and squabble like children."

"Yes, father," both Andruil and Falon'Din muttered, their heads bowed to Elgar'nan. Both shifted, but didn't utter a word against Elgar'nan. They, like all the rest here, had learned it was best to avoid Elgar'nan's temper.

"Why are we here?" Fen'Harel asked as he straightened. Despite being tall for an elvhen, Fen'Harel stood a good few inches shorter than Elgar'nan. He knew that if it came down to blows, Elgar'nan could easy win. But in a battle there was more to it than brute strength and that was where Fen'Harel held the advantage.

Elgar'nan regarded Fen'Harel with an even gaze. If anyone else had asked this outside of Mythal, he knew they wouldn't have just gotten a look. "I have news from the People," Elgar'nan started, never once looking away from Fen'Harel. "Temples are being constructed."

"For what?" it was Falon'Din who asked this. "Didn't we just finish tearing down the last temple to the Forgotten? I mean, we don't need _more_ to tear down, do we?"

"Temples to _us_," Elgar'nan held the last word, his sweeping gaze washing over each of them in turn.

Fen'Harel frowned. "Elgar'nan," he started, taking a step towards the older man, "we are no more Gods than the Forgotten were."

At this Elgar'nan narrowed his gaze. "The People need hope and we give it to them. If we're not one of them and aren't Spirits, then we're gods." With that he turned to the others who all looked flushed with excitement over this.

Fen'Harel looked behind him and Dirthamen who had, as always, avoided the scrutiny of Elgar'nan by remaining quiet and in the shadows. Dirthamen meet Fen'Harel's gaze and there he saw a tendril of his worry reflected.

The younger man stood and moved to Fen'Harel's side. "This will be our undoing," he whispered to Fen'Harel before he continued passed to join his brother.

The feeling of dread increased in Fen'Harel. But then he looked at the others. The years of war had left them glum and upon returning, they had been greeted as heroes by the People. Still that hadn't made any of them smile as they were now.

"It's our right!" Andruil announced, grinning wider than when she had pinned Fen'Harel to the ground.

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he was just over thinking this and there was nothing to worry about. He felt himself smile. The last of the tension left him as he watched the others. Yes, in the end, after so long of battling and sacrificing for the people, it was their right.

*~ X ~*

A knock shattered his thoughts, drawing Fen'Harel from the past and better time. Fen'Harel looked towards the door, frowning. No one should have called on him. Most of the sentinels would be guarding Mythal or the temple itself. It seemed unlikely that Mythal would come to see him after their conversation and he doubted that Felassan would be by.

There was only one way to find out. He stood and crossed over to the door. It opened to reveal the pilgrim he had been speaking with earlier. She no longer wore the hood of her heavy cloak up which revealed long, beautiful hair. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Yes?" he asked, eyeing her. This was even stranger than having Mythal come by. Or, at least, it was a little more random.

"May I?" gestured into the quarters.

His eyes narrowed but he didn't otherwise speak against it. Instead he stepped aside and she slipped into the room and glanced around. Her eyes locked onto the sketchbook and charcoal set, carefully, to one side. Without asking, she walked over to the sketchbook and picked it up. She skimmed through the images.

"You're very good," she complimented, stopping on one of the pages.

"Can I help you?" he asked, keeping his voice polite despite the fact she was being anything but. Last he had checked it was considered polite to ask before one looked through another's sketchbook.

He crossed over to her and took the book from her, snapping it closed. He didn't even look at the picture she had complimented. The feeling of her hand on his arm, made Fen'Harel look towards her. Her lips touched his.

Of all the – Fen'Harel tried to sidestep, but found he was caught between her and the table. He didn't return the kiss.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, glaring down at her.

She huffed and stepped back. The warmth of her hand against his face was all too acute to him. "I came here to pray to Mythal for love," she told him. "The very same day, you come here to speak with Mythal."

This only made him scowl. He knew well enough where she was going with this. Perhaps he shouldn't be too upset, after all she wasn't that bad looking. There was also a chance that she might just like him and not know he was Fen'Harel. Most women only came to him after they knew he was one of the "gods." It was because of what he was and not who he was.

"It has to be more than just coincidence that you, Fen'Harel, came here and spoke with _me_ of all people."

The moment she spoke his name, he knew what it was she was after. It was always the same. "What do you want?" he asked, playing along. There was a still chance, no matter how slim, that she might actually be more interested in him and not in the God him.

"Whatever you want, milord," she whispered. She leaned forward to kiss him again.

This time he blocked her. It was all too clear her intentions. "Get out," he growled. His voice was low, harsh, and filled with the rage starting to simmer in him. This girl was like all the others. All she wanted was to be with him to claim she had. She wasn't interested in him, only his power.

"Milord?" She took a shocked step back.

"Out," he repeated.

"I don't understand."

"Do I need to spell it out for you, child?" He knew he was being harsh, but his anger was making it hard not to be. "Out, now!" Mana crackled around him, reacting to his rage. The raw energy moved.

The girl's eyes widened. She stumbled back before racing form the room.

Several moments passed before Fen'Harel took a deep breath. The mana left as he forced his tense muscles to relax. All mortals were the same, pity, desiring in nothing more than their own gain. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from caring and protecting those rare few. Perhaps, one day there would be ones who could lead the People without such a desire for greed. Instead they could have a desire for knowledge and wisdom, to learn from the past and grow from it rather than scoff and hunger for their own personal, selfish needs.

Fen'Harel gathered up his sketchbook and charcoal. For the first time in a long time he was too restless to sleep. And a part of him didn't wish to speak with the spirits this night. He left the rooms Abelas had given him and moved off through the halls of the temple.

"Better."

Fen'Harel paused at the sound of Abelas's voice. In a room off to his right he could see Felassan standing across from Abelas. The boy held a staff in his hands and had a look of extreme focus on his face. He then whipped out with mana. Ice arched through the air towards Abelas. The older mage deflected the attack with ease.

"Too predictable. In battle you would be dead now. Has Fen'Harel taught you nothing?"

The boy flushed. "N-no," he confessed, "I only know about healing herds and what the other high priests have told me."

Fen'Harel moved off. He knew that Felassan had needed training and ignored this given everything else that had been happening. Now that a battle was coming… well, perhaps he shouldn't have been so lax with the boy. But magic could be self-taught as Fen'Harel had been forced to, as well.

He took a seat in a secluded part of the temple and opened his sketchbook back to a blank page. He wasn't really shocked that the most secluded part of the temple was by the massive statue of himself. The large wolf was alone in this part of the temple. And it was just fine by Fen'Harel. He wanted to be alone and here worked.

The images he sketched on the paper were loose and the image was just what he saw in the area spread out below him. Most of the time he would draw what he saw in dreams but that was only after waking and he hadn't done such in a long time.

"I thought I would find you up here," a smooth voice spoke behind Fen'Harel.

He didn't turn. "_Aneth ara_, Mythal."

She crossed over to where he sat and joined him. "You sent that mortal crying back into the main temple. She was quite hard to understand."

"Humph."

"I see you don't care, as always. For once you could just accept an offer for love from one of them, old friend."

"I don't need advice on this, Mythal." He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.

"It seems you do, given the fact it's been many, _many_ centuries since you've been with even a mortal. And you always ignored or slipped away from Andruil's attempts to court you."

He continued to work on the sketch, doing his best to ignore Mythal. The truth was, most of the women he had been with in the past had only been interested in him for his power and nothing more. None of them had wanted to learn. The rare occasion there was someone who did, she wasn't interested in Fen'Harel at all.

"And what of your relationship with Elgar'nan?" he asked. "Last I checked you two were more likely to be fight than actually be together now days." His tone was harsher than he meant it to be considering he was trying to tease her and not anger her. But she was drawing on an old wound for him.

"Ha," she scoffed. "And you're one to judge. You've never been in a relationship that's lasted more than night, at best. That even including when Andruil tried to get you into one."

"Perhaps if Andruil was actually cunning about it or tried something other than force," he started, "I would have been more interested. Her ideas were always related to hunting like I was the prize to be caught at the end."

"True." Mythal's yellow eyes glittered with amusement and he knew he had just played into her hands. "But in all of these many centuries, none of the People have caught your eye either. When you do find that one person who fits your ever so picky taste, I bet you will walk away from it, fearing what love will do to you."

Fen'Harel bristled at this. "I would never do such a thing!"

Mythal laughed. "You're still fun to tease, Fen'Harel." She leaned into him and looked up at the stars. "But I am also serious. If you do find someone even among the People, you shouldn't walk away from it. Even we deserve those few moments of happiness."

"None of the others wish to be with a mortal. Why should I?" Fen'Harel demanded.

"Falon'Din and Ghilan'nain are too proud. Elgar'nan knows I'd claw his eyes out if went for a mortal. June and Sylaise took company for others among us over the years. Dirthamen, well, he's just Dirthamen. And Andruil once had her heart set on you because you're the one none could ever convince. But, given time, even they might go for a mortal. Besides, you're the closest to the People out of all of us, God of Rebellion." She poked him in the rib as she said his title among the others and the People.

Fen'Harel let out a long, low breath. He turned his gaze back on the scene he'd been sketching, but his hand didn't move. "For there to ever be a woman to trap me, it would take one of sharp mind and a kind heart," his eyes remained locked on the scene below. "I doubt there will ever be one of the People who hold interest in one such as myself." Well, in the him without the abilities of a "god."

"Perhaps you're just asking too much of the woman."

At this Fen'Harel smiled. "Perhaps, but we'll see, won't we?"

"Humph," she grunted and laid her head down in his lap, stopping him from sketching. "You're rather picky." She poked him again. "Too picky."

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**(Author's Note: **All right, I am posting this on all of my stories, but I am going to try and update at least twice a week. By this I am not meaning this story will be updated twice a week, only that I have two days set aside where I update stories. My Dragon Age stories (either this one or Forgotten Embers) will be updated every Monday from here on out. The other day is Tuesday which will see my other series updated.

I've really wanted to write the other elven Gods and thus, flashbacks are going to have to be the way. You'll see why in a few chapters. Anyway, since we've never seen them before now, each is how I imagine them. I am still trying to go with what is on the wiki though. And I keep having to remind myself "Okay, Solas was 'hot-blooded and cocky' when he was younger" talk about easier said than done.

Also, yes, the end of the chapter was a hint at the LavellanxSolas romance. And I do realize he also likes "cruel" choices or, more over, ones that are necessary, but that can be dropped in with the intellect part of it… or just who he is or becomes as the story progresses.**) **


	8. Chapter 7: In Flames

**A Request: **If you are enjoying this story, please, please leave a review. I love hearing what people have to say about the story so far.

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Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 7: In Flames

Silence pressed down on the predawn air. The silence was filled with barely contained tension. It seeped into Fen'Harel, through the depths of the Fade and roused him. The air was chilled, a thin mist hung over him and Mythal. The only warmth came from her as she slept beside him.

She stirred, eyes opening as well. There was a moment where she looked confused before the yellow of her eyes lightened. "Something's wrong," she whispered as she straightened.

The words shuttered in the air, foreign, unreal in the sound of them. Fen'Harel didn't speak, only nodded as he straightened as well. The two of them must have fallen asleep sometime in the night after their banter had died away. Now the air stirred again with the uneasy silence.

"Find Abelas and Felassan," Mythal whispered to him.

"You should head to the inner sanctum," Fen'Harel told her.

Mythal hesitated; then nodded. She moved off without another word. There was no point in arguing right now, not when it felt as the veil was about to rip and the Fade merged with world. The thought both chilled Fen'Harel and excited him. He shoved it back. If such a thing were to happen it would do more harm to both the Fade and the physical world than it would do good.

He moved off to find Abelas. Not much to his surprise the high priest was awake and just across the bridge and on the top of the wall.

"How long do we have to be out here for?" Felassan asked as he stifled a yawn. "The army didn't move during the night." The boy being there was a little of a shock, especially since Fen'Harel suspected Abelas had pushed him hard in the brief training session.

"Their scouts are moving," was Abelas's only reply.

Felassan murmured something and yawned again. Neither of them noticed Fen'Harel's quiet approach.

"How many?" he asked in way of greeting to Abelas.

Felassan jumped. "Master! I didn't see you approach."

"About twenty," Abelas informed Fen'Harel.

"Mythal retreated to the inner sanctum," Fen'Harel told Abelas as he followed the priest's gaze. His sharp vision cut through the dawn. He could see the twenty that Abelas had noticed as well as a few more, further back. "They're starting to move."

"You should join Mythal," Abelas told him.

Fen'Harel looked at the priest, lips curling with amusement. "I will never cower at the back of a temple, Abelas," he stated in even, cool tones.

Abelas looked ready to say something more but a soft whistle made them both turn their attention back to the wall. Arrows hissed through the air. Hundreds were racing towards them and the sentinels guarding the entrance below.

Mana cracked before Fen'Harel. He and Abelas reacted in the same moment. A barrier formed over them three of them. Arrows slammed, useless, into the field.

The ground shook under him. "_Fenedhis_," Fen'Harel spat the curse. "Gather what remains of the sentinels at the bridge. I'll meet you there." Without another word, Fen'Harel leapt over the low wall. Rough bark greeted his feet before he leapt the rest of the way to the forest floor. The temple's entrance lay in shattered ruins. Blood pooled under stone. It trickled into the crevices towards Fen'Harel. Those who remained alive were struggling back to their feet. Some held bows, others staves.

"To me!" Fen'Harel called to them as he moved to the closets one. "We head for the bridge," he told them.

His back was to the enemy; still he was ready for any strike by them. He raced from group to group, helping those he could get back on their feet. Others were left, dead. There would be time to send them off later.

Magic crackled again as the barrier raced up moments before another arrow would hit Fen'Harel. He glanced behind him. The soldiers were racing up the steps towards them.

Fen'Harel pivoted, twisting his staff around him as magic swirled into life. Fire erupted around him. A storm of raging, crackling flames leapt and licked at the oncoming soldiers. Screams filled the air. A hart's bugle turned to a piercing, continuous shriek as the flames leapt up the flanks of the beats to the rider half-conscious astride the wild, terror filled creature.

"Move!" Fen'Harel whipped around and raced after the sentinels, urging them to run faster.

Hooves beat against stone as more cavalry mounted the stairs. Bugles and wild cries of the harts echoed down the long passage. Each sound lent speed to Fen'Harel and those sentinels ahead of him. He chanced a glance back. The harts had filed into the passage.

Fen'Harel skidded to a stop. Careful not to be obvious he placed several magical traps on the ground between them and the oncoming army. He paused only long enough to do this before he was off once more. It would only slow them, nothing more.

"Quickly," Fen'Harel urged the sentinels as he caught up to them.

The sound of the traps exploding rang in Fen'Harel's ears. The heat of the fire raced out around him and the sentinels.

Abelas was waiting for them just behind the barrier. Fen'Harel and the others joined him and Felassan there.

"What was that?" Felassan asked, looking up towards the entrance.

"Magical traps," Fen'Harel told the boy before he turned to Abelas. "A few were taken out but it's not enough to do more than slow them. I can stop as many as I can—"

Abelas shook his head. "We're going to retreat into the temple proper. The defenses are down." He glared at one of the sentinels. "A few forgot to renew the spells after cleaning columns yesterday."

"_Ir abelas_," murmured the sentinel. His head was bowed, eyes downcast and flinched under Abelas's and Fen'Harel's gazes.

"_Tel'abelas_," snapped Abelas. He turned his gaze back on Fen'Harel. "We need to get the defenses up within the temple for Mythal and the pilgrims alike." He turned to the sentinels who had erred. "You will stay out here and delay them for as long as possible. _Mythal, sulevin_." With those words he gestured to Fen'Harel and strode towards the massive, temple doors.

Fen'Harel glanced at the few who remained behind. They turned from him, drawing their bows or calling upon magic to help defend the temple. There were enough of them to buy time. Even still that time was slim at best. Fen'Harel could already see the first of the cavalry units coming through the tunnel.

The harts leapt over the low railing, landing hard on the dry ground below. Dust rose up around their thick, strong hooves. The sentinels readied themselves drawing back their bows or preparing to use magic. Fen'Harel hesitated only a moment before he raced after Abelas. While a part of him wanted to go and help those few he knew he would be more useful with the bulk of the forces. He hadn't been in a large scale battle since the last time one of the other "gods" tried to attack him. Even then that hadn't been large.

Fen'Harel helped the sentinels close the massive doors into the temple. "Abelas," he turned to the high priest, but stopped himself from giving orders by biting his tongue. This wasn't his temple. By all rights he was supposed to be here as only an observer.

"Set up here," Abelas ordered a group of sentinels. "The rest of you come with me."

Fen'Harel followed after Abelas.

"Master," Felassan fell into step beside him, "what will happen to us if the temple falls?"

"The temple won't fall," the reply came from Abelas. "Our duty is to Mythal, our lives are bound to her. We will protect her and her domain with every last drop of blood in our bodies."

This made Fen'Harel shiver. The loyalty Abelas showed was deep and true. He had chosen to give himself completely to the will of Mythal, much like Felassan had done for Fen'Harel. It wasn't a life that Fen'Harel approved of anymore. He had once, long ago when he and the others had first ended up assuming the role of Gods to the People. Now? No, he couldn't think such lives were worthwhile. It was wasted potential.

"Fen'Harel, head further into the temple with Felassan," Abelas told him, his pale eyes locked onto Fen'Harel. "The sentinels need to focus on pushing back the enemy and they can't do that with you here."

"We can help," Felassan protested.

Abelas's eyes narrowed as he looked at the boy. "You barely know the basics of magic," he stated. "While Fen'Harel could help, you would be a liability. And I won't have him helping if it means having one more matter to worry about in battle."

There was a moment where Fen'Harel was going to snap that he was more than capable of defending himself. But there was another, less prideful part of him that knew Abelas spoke the truth. "Very well, I'll do as you ask."

Fen'Harel gestured to Felassan before he strode through the sentinels. One of the sentinels broke off in order to guide Fen'Harel and Felassan through the side passages once again.

Since the passages took longer, the sounds of combat soon reached Fen'Harel and Felassan. He suppressed the urge to scowl. This wasn't his temple, he had no say here. But with each step Fen'Harel had to force himself to remember this and it grew harder and harder as they walked.

That was it! Fen'Harel turned on his heel and raced back down the passage. He shifted his form. Claws clicked with each step as he drew further from the sentinel guide and Felassan. There was no way he was going to sit back and listen or watch as the People died, even if was Mythal's temple and her sentinels. It didn't feel right. It wasn't right!

He raced through the doors into the field of battle. Many of the sentinels were putting up a good fight, but there were more of the enemy than there were of the sentinels. He paused only long enough to take into account who was friend and who was foe before he shifted back into in his elvhen form.

Without another moment's pause, Fen'Heral warped the veil, bending it to his will. Green energy crackled to life over the enemy. Screams of shock filled the air was all of them were drawn back into the center of the vortex he had created. Fire crackled into life over them, raining down in a storm of heat. The screams to ones of pain as the enemy was burned.

"Fen'Harel!" one of the few who hadn't died from his attack shouted. "Retreat!"

Ice raced out from Fen'Harel and grew over the entrance. The thick sheet stopped the enemy soldiers in their tracks. They wouldn't escape this. Fen'Harel turned to them, rage simmering deep in his veins. The rage boiled with his aura, fueling the magic as he unleashed it.

The ice ripped into flesh and through bone. Screams filled the air for mere seconds before all that remained were frozen statues of the enemy. They would not get away from this. There was no escaping his ire.

"Fen'Harel."

The sentinels moved over to him.

"You have great timing."

"Where is the fighting the worst?" he asked as he turned to them.

The sentinel who had spoken glanced at his fellows. "I think there was a large group heading for the pilgrims," she told him. "We were trying to head off part of the group when we were ambushed here."

"Another group is heading for Mythal," said another of the sentinels. "Last I saw, Abelas and few others were trying to get to her."

"Mythal should be fine for now," Fen'Harel told them. "We'll head for the pilgrims."

"Right!" They straightened. "We'll follow you, Fen'Harel."

He moved to the doors. The ice melted, cascading down in waves of water. Battle raged all around as he led the small group around towards the pilgrims. Sure enough there were groups moving on the pilgrims. Even from where Fen'Harel and the sentinels were, he could hear the sounds of battle.

He rounded the corner to see many were pressing down on the pilgrims and the few sentinels there. "Defend them!" Fen'Harel shouted. He raced forward. His staff thrummed through the air, fire trailing the wooden tip. The flames raced out towards the closest enemy.

The enemy scattered in a confused disarray from the attack from behind.

Fen'Harel turned and raced forward. His hand closed around the neck of one attacker. Lightening tingled through his fingertips before surging into the enemy soldier.

"Kill him! Kill Fen'Harel!" the cry came from the mists of the enemy soldiers.

Fen'Harel leapt back, waving his hand through the air. A barrier formed moments before arrows stuck it.

The veil warped once more. Shouts of shock echoed around him as the bulk of the enemy were sucked into the center of the vortex.

"No one threatens the People."

Instead of setting them ablaze this time Fen'Harel ripped a tear in the veil. He forced them into the domain of a demon before sealing the tear.

He straightened and glanced around. The rest of the forces were falling to the sentinels magic, arrows, or blades. He turned to the pilgrims. A few of them showed signs of having fought as well.

"How many dead?" Fen'Harel asked when the fighting had died down.

"A few of us, and none of the pilgrims," replied the sentinel. "Thank you for your aid, Fen'Harel." She bowed to him.

He bowed his head to her. "It's far from over." There was bound to be more attempts on the pilgrims. It was one of the lowest and oldest tricks in the book. Kill off those who worshiped the "god" and the "god's" power base suffered for it. Even though Andruil wasn't fully behind this attack, he knew Bor'assan would know to do this.

"What do you suggest?" she asked. While she was looking at Fen'Harel, her eyes never once looked into his face. The only ones who did look him in the eye were high priests and the others or those who didn't know he was Fen'Harel.

When he had been younger, he hadn't minded this, but it was rather annoying now. It wasn't like looking at him would kill them.

"Set a few of the ranged up around the ramparts where they had clear line of sight to the main entrance here. Barricade all other entrances into this section. Then have a few of those with stealth set up to ambush the enemy who come through. Mages back here close to the pilgrims in order to set up defense and support your melee forces," he instructed them.

"It will be done." She bowed again before racing off to tell the others.

Time passed with Fen'Harel helping to set up the defenses as fast as they could. Soon this part of the temple was well fortified. Though, he wasn't certain how heavy a strike they could withstand. If the majority of the army pressed here, no matter how good the sentinels were, Fen'Harel wouldn't be able to make up the difference unless he wished to kill everyone here: friend and foe alike.

"Fen'Harel," a timid voice started behind him.

He turned and suppressed a scowl. It was the girl from last night. "You should be back with the others," he told her. And not bothering him.

"I'll join them in a moment. First, I wanted to apologize for last night. I was a bit forward."

"A bit," he snorted at this. "Go, _da'len_."

"I'm trying to apologize."

"Thank you for that clarification," he gave a mock bow. Then he turned from her and stopped.

A chill crept through Fen'Harel which had nothing to do with the girl. The ever present power of Mythal was lessening within the temple.

"I now see why you're the God most want to avoid," snapped the girl.

But Fen'Harel wasn't listening to her anymore. He turned his gaze towards the center of the temple.

"You're really an ass."

The power weakened further. It was as if she no longer held the strength. As if it was being drained from her to another. Her very essence being torn from her body. She was… dying.

"Mythal," the name escaped him as a breath, frightened and weak.

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Elven phrases used:  
_sulevin _– certain or purpose (here I took it from the game to mean that there is purpose through surviving Mythal)

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**(Author's Note: **Okay, I removed Forgotten Embers until later. I realized I couldn't get much further in that story without giving away everything in this story. It will be coming back after this story is finished. I am sorry about that.

Also, I did heavily edit chapter 1. It has been reposted and now flows better with the rest of the book. Timeline stuff I will figure out later.

I can't tell you guys how hard it was to sit on this chapter until Monday. I really wanted to post it the second I had it done. But, hey, I managed it!**) **


	9. Chapter 8: At Knife's Tip

**Please, please review. I really want to know what people think of this story. And I love reading reviews; they mean more than you guys know. **

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Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 8: At Knife's Tip

"Mythal?" the girl's questioning voice was distant to Fen'Harel.

The world felt as if it had disconnected from reality as Fen'Harel started forward. Before too long he was racing through the only passage. The sound of a sentinel calling to him fell on deaf ears. Mythal was in danger. He had to get to her. He just had to.

He raced through the halls, passed all the battles raging in the temples and towards where Mythal would be. Had he been a fool to think that there was no danger to her? He had come here because he had thought she was in trouble. Now – now, he didn't want to think on how much of a fool he was for ignoring his own warning.

A few enemy soldiers raced towards him. "Out of the way!" he snarled, lashing out blindly with magic. They were wiped aside as if they were as light of a leaf blown in the soft summer breeze. Their cries were distant, almost lost in the fear and desire to reach Mythal.

Fen'Harel raced into the inner sanctum of the temple. He skidded to a stop. The sight which greeted him made him feel as if the world had flipped. His eyes were locked on the lone figure in the sanctum. It couldn't be! His mind rebelled against the sight even as his feet moved him down to where the figure lay, unmoving. At first glance it could have been another statue, the color of obsidian instead of the dull gray tones most were carved from. But deep down he knew, he knew it was—

He collapsed to his knees beside Mythal's still form. Nothing was left of her but an empty husk. His hand trembled over her, eyes wide with shock. Her essence had been drained along with her power. She was gone.

No, she couldn't be gone. She was one of the oldest out of them. She was the oldest living elvhen in all of elvhenan outside of the Elgar'nan, if they were elvhen. She couldn't be gone.

"Mythal?" his voice cracked with the weight of the question. His fingers touched skin harder than any stone. No. He gathered in his arms. His hand ran across her forehead as he searched for anything, any sign that she wasn't gone.

An unfamiliar pain roiled in his chest and burned at his eyes. He couldn't remember such a pain as this. He didn't want it. But he couldn't hold the pain back. A tear trickled down his face to the still form.

"Master!" a familiar voice shouted. "Look out!"

Fen'Harel straightened at the sound of Felassan's voice. A shadow passed over him. Agony shot through him. A cry tore from Fen'Harel's lips and Mythal's still form slid from his hold. He struggled against the pain, fighting against the hold it had on him. The feeling of the power which held him was familiar.

"Andruil," he gasped the name, but it couldn't be. There was no way she could have gotten free.

"Not quite," stated a cool, male voice. A man stepped from the shadows. Andruil's Orb hovered over his hand, flecks of green energy raced towards it from Fen'Harel. It mixed with the red the Orb had become.

"Corrupted magic," he gasped, trying to fight against the hold and speak at once. "Bor'assan," his teeth gritted as he glared at the high priest. "It was you."

"Yes, I took Mythal's power for my mistress. Imagine my shock and joy when I saw you enter here, _da'fen_. My mistress will reward me greatly for taking her your power and your head."

Fen'Harel gasped. His hands struck the stone ground, eyes narrowed against the pain. He was weakening. His essence was being ripped from his body and forcibly placed into another Orb. There was no winning this fight, but he couldn't just roll over and let Bor'assan take his power as well.

"W-why does Andruil w-want our power?" he forced out the question. It was hard to look up at Bor'assan and continue the silent, raging battle against the pull of the Orb.

Bor'assan chewed his lip, head tilted to one side and brown eyes thoughtful. "I suppose there's no harm in telling a man on his deathbed." Bor'assan knelt down before Fen'Harel. "She plans to take power from all of you so that she can become the sole God to the elvhen. She'll rule over us. The strong will rule the weak and there will be no more pain or war."

"Slavery," Fen'Harel spat. Rage was replacing the pain. She would kill all of them to secure such a world.

"For most," he confessed, "but they won't know the difference, _da'fen_. They'll be mindless, all of them. And they won't live long enough anyway to know the difference. Those She doesn't want to continue on as immortal will quicken like the shemlen. They will no longer know the eternal heartbeat of our People. All they will know is the life of a service to the one true God: Andruil!"

The rage ripped apart the pain. His aura reacted to it, drawing forth all the power he had burred long ago. The veil warped, weakening around him.

"What the—" Bor'assan leapt back from him, watching as the flow of Fen'Harel's essence stopped.

Fen'Harel had been freed from the Orb, but the magic was still racing around his aura, growing with each pulse of rage through his veins.

A cry of rage, pain, and sorrow tore from his lips. It echoed through the air, mirroring the howl of a wolf. The sound caused the earth to shake with the force of his emotions.

The world shuttered, veil tearing and leaking into the world around him as he pulled on the energy. His body rippled and grew with the emotions, powers flowing with the Fade's. Massive, clawed paws replaced his hands as he stood. Wisps of shadow flowed forming his hide. His maw parted as he howled his rage and pain once more.

In the distance he could hear parts of the temple shake and collapse from the force of his emotions.

"_Fenedhis lasa_," spat Bor'assan. He turned the Orb back on Fen'Haral.

A howl shook the air as pain raced through him once more. Rage simmer passed the pain. He trashed out with one strong paw. Bor'assan was ripped from the ground and sent through the air.

Fen'Harel was barely aware of him landing in the river. Energy drained from Fen'Harel faster than it had come. He collapsed to his knees an elvhen once more. His eyes rolled moments before he fell to lie beside Mythal.

"Master!"

"Fen'Harel!"

Two figures moved in over Fen'Harel. His vision was turning black. He couldn't tell who they were or figure out why they were protecting him. Why him and not Mythal? Why him? Mythal had – Mythal had…

*~ The Past ~*

"We'll be enough, Mythal."

"Just the two of us wouldn't stand a chance," snapped a woman.

Fen'Harel, before the name had been given to him, stirred at the sound of the arguing voices.

The sky wasn't even tinted with the light of predawn. Most people were asleep, locked away safely in their huts away from the ire of the Gods. Whoever these two were, were either wanders kicked from their home village like Fen'Harel or just crazy. If the Forgotten caught them out in the open … well without magic they were as good as dead.

"We can't just wait around for more like us," snapped the first, his voice harsh and filled with rage.

Fen'Harel pulled himself to the edge of the small outcropping he had taken shelter under. Below him stood two elvhen, but they didn't look like any he had seen in his home village. The man was the most notable. He looked like something straight out of stories with his noble features and hair like strands of gold even in eerie glow of the tear through the sky.

The woman could only be describe was undeniably beautiful. Her black hair shimmered as if it were a waterfall frozen and bathed in the moonlight. She wore just as shabby of robes as the man, though Fen'Harel wasn't one talk there. His clothes were roughly put together and most were tattered and covered in holes.

Still, these two did not fit the image of poverty and slavery forced upon all of the People by the Gods, save for those chosen few. Were they among those few? If so, why were they dressed like that? And why were they disobeying the will of the Gods?

"Mythal," the man hissed in a whisper.

Fen'Harel was drawn from his thoughts by a blazing, ball of fire rushing towards him. Without thinking, he reacted. A barrier formed between him and the fire. The ground ripped under him and he forced more energy into the barrier than ever before. He was torn from the ground. Pain lanced through his back as he struck the cliff side. Rocks tumbled down around him.

More fire, raced towards him. Fen'Harel rolled away this time, not risking another barrier. The heat grazed him, several times hotter than any fire he had conjured to stay warm. Loose rock slid out from under his foot. He screamed in shock as air rushed under him. The ground struck his back and he was sliding.

Pain shot through his shoulder as he landed hard near to the two strangers. He ignored the pain and struggled to a kneeling position, ready for the man's next strike. If he died, he would die fighting.

"That is quite enough, Elgar'nan," the woman told the man. She stepped between them, her yellow eyes, so unlike any other eyes Fen'Harel had ever seen, softened as she looked at him. "Why are you out here, _da'len_?"

_Da'len_? Fen'Harel felt himself bristle at being called a child. "You're not that much older than I am," he retorted.

She laughed. "By your reaction you are a _da'len_." Her yellow eyes glimmered with humor. "Now, will you tell us why you're out here?"

"That's none of your concern," he stated as he stood. The small fight and fall had caused a few scrapes and bruises. It was nothing a good night's rest wouldn't heal.

"My, aren't you the distrustful one?" the woman, who he assumed was Mythal, spoke with humor in her voice.

Fen'Harel glowered at this. "You're… friend there did just attack me," he pointed out, shooting a glare at her fellow. Despite Elgar'nan's more relaxed pose, Fen'Harel kept himself tense, ready for a fight if it came down to it. He had survived the villagers of his home trying to kill him, he could survive this as well.

"Mythal."

Elgar'nan's warning made Fen'Harel look back at the woman. She had moved closer to him. A frown had replaced her amusement. She paced around him. He tried to keep one eye on her and on Elgar'nan as well.

"He's like us," she stated after coming full circle. She stood before him, looking into his eyes. There was something intense about her gaze. It felt as if he was staring straight into the eyes of a high dragon. Yet, he couldn't look away either.

"Humph," Elgar'nan grunted. "Perhaps he was just lucky to have not been turned to ash."

Mythal laughed. "Come now, Elgar'nan, you should be able to feel the power in him as I have."

"Okay, fine, so we now have three against three," stated Elgar'nan, his voice dry and harsh. "But he will need training."

"In what?" Fen'Harel demanded.

"We're going to stop _them_," Mythal told him and smiled at him. "With your help it might just be do able."

"You mean the Gods?" he asked, frowning. "Isn't that suicide?"

"Perhaps, but if we don't try then who will?" Mythal asked him. "Will you help us?"

His eyes narrowed. "Why should I? I rather like breathing, thanks."

At this Elgar'nan made a noise in his throat. "Leave him, Mythal. Like us or not, I can tell a lost cause when I see one. He's nothing more than a stray mutt who doesn't know when not to eavesdrop."

Anger flared in Fen'Harel. His magical aura reacted with it. It was almost like the Fade moved in the sky towards him as it did normally whenever he lost control of his emotions.

"Say that again," he snarled, baring his teeth which were now sharpening as his form started to shift towards the wolf.

A smile curled Elgar'nan's thin lips. "Did I anger the stay puppy?" Despite his goading there was a hint of being impressed in his voice. "Just try it, pup."

Fen'Harel snarled and moved towards Elgar'nan, ready to fight him once more.

"Enough!" Mythal stepped between them. "We shouldn't waste energy on fighting one another. They are the threat." She yellow gaze flashed to the sky.

Fen'Harel backed down, returning to his more elvhen form. He followed her gaze. The sight wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. In fact the swirling darkness of the Gods' realm always dominated the sky even during the day. It intermixed with the Fade. Most of the Spirits he knew avoided the darker parts where the Fade met the Gods' realm and thus the mortal realm where they lived.

A shiver raced through Fen'Harel at the sight. "You really think it's possible to take them down?" he asked in a small breath.

"Together it will be."

He turned and found himself staring straight into Mythal's piercing gaze.

"I'm Mythal. The one with a short temper is Elgar'nan. What's your name?"

"The villagers always just called me Fen," he confessed.

"So you're a wolf," Elgar'nan smirked at this.

"Better than being a spirit of vengeance," he snapped back.

Between them, Mythal was rubbing her chin. "It only half fits you," she started. "You have a very defiant spirit." She smiled, eyes glistening with some unknown humor. "I think Fen'Harel fits far more than just Fen." She nodded. "Yes, from here on out, you're Fen'Harel and you're now our brother."

*~ X ~*

The sound of a body striking stone made Felassan glance behind him. Horror filled him. Fen'Harel had collapsed beside Mythal.

"Master!"

Felassan was beside his master in an instant. A small breath eased from his lungs when he noted that his master had paled but wasn't the same ashen stone color as Mythal. His skin was drained of color, almost pasty. It looked as if he had fallen extremely ill. If not for the information Felassan had from the high priest before him, he would think this was true. But the Gods couldn't fall ill, not through any physical means which affected the People, at least.

"Master?" Felassan's hand shook as he reached down and touched his master. He was still breathing, but only just.

"How is he?" Abelas asked from where he stood guarding the two of them. The other sentinels were gathering now as well, having felt the fall of their god.

"He's barely breathing," Felassan whispered. His heart fluttered with fear. Could Fen'Harel fall alongside Mythal today? No! Fen'Harel couldn't die. But that energy that had come from him, was it his life force?

"Take him and use the eluvian to get out of here," Abelas instructed Felassan. "He's going to need to get back to his own temple."

Felassan pulled his master off the ground, he staggered a little under the weight. He slung his master's arm over his shoulder. "All right." He looked up at the older high priest.

There was only a rage simmering in Abelas's pale eyes. "Do not touch the well. It will kill you," the older priest told him, eyes narrowed. He turned from Felassan.

Bor'assan was recovering from Fen'Harel's strike. Andruil's priest got to his feet. Blood and water streamed off of him. His eyes glowed red with the power of Andruil's Orb and long gashes fell down his face and chest from where Fen'Harel had struck him.

"Sentinels of Mythal!" Abelas called to his fellows. "Mythal may have fallen this day but we won't allow another to join her. _Mythal'nan_!"

Abelas did stop one of the sentinels for them to help Felassan with Fen'Harel. Felassan and the female sentinel made their slow progress towards the well of sorrows. Bor'assan had his hands full dealing the angered sentinels.

Abelas led them through the fray to the bottom of the well. "Take them to the temple. He," – he tilted his head to Felassan – "has never been there."

"It will be done." She bowed her head to Abelas. "Come, _da'len_." She shifted Fen'Harel's arm on her shoulders and held his staff in her other hand. The two of them mounted the steep steps to the top of the basin like structure.

The place it opened up to seemed like it was out of a dream. Power radiated from the clear waters in the center of the basin. New growth pressed around the edges of the walls.

"This way." She moved around the shimmering water towards the eluvian across from the stairs.

Felassan glanced behind him. The steps had crumbled away and he could only just hear the distant sounds of battle.

"No!" a voice was shrieking in rage. "No, he can't get away!"

The three of them passed through the eluvian and into the gray world of the Crossroads. The space was different from where Mythal and Fen'Harel had met. The space felt like a garden with paths leading to many different eluvians.

"This way."

The sentinel started off down one of the paths. The mist cleared showing him the path all the more clearly from ones elsewhere. He glanced around. There were other elvhen moving through the strange world, but none of them looked towards Felassan. There were also none on this path.

"It's a direct route through to the other Gods' temples," the sentinel explained to him. "But I won't be able to open the eluvian into the Temple of Fen'Harel. You'll have to do that."

"All right." He shifted his master. Fen'Harel's feet dragged on the ground despite the help of the sentinel of Mythal. Both of them were a good several inches shorter than Fen'Harel.

"Here we are." She stopped before an eluvian, forcing Felassan to stop as well. "Move to it and place your hand on the surface. The magic that makes you a high priest will allow you and I entrance."

Felassan stepped forward and touched the shifting surface. At once the image turned from the shifting grays to the blues he was used to seeing. Without a wOrb they carried Fen'Harel through the eluvian and to safety.

* * *

Elven phrases used:  
_Mythal'nan _– either: "Avenge Mythal" or "Mythal's vengeance"

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**(Author's Note: **I am using _harel_ here as meaning rebel. Given the fact that it didn't get the term "trickster" until after Fen'Harel sealed the other gods and he was known as the God of Rebellion beforehand as well.

A lot of what happens in the flashback is head-canon at this point (granted most of what is happening in this story is head-canon).

Update: I now post news related to stories on my profile page. I try to keep it up to two weeks ahead. And will post why an update is missed, if one is missed, both there and in the author's notes of the chapter the following week.**) **


	10. Chapter 9: A High Priest

**Please, please review. I really want to know what people think of this story. And I love reading reviews; they mean more than you guys know. **

* * *

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 9: A High Priest

Felassan blinked as he and the sentinel of Mythal stepped into the Temple of Fen'Harel. Unlike with the entrance into eluvian in the Temple of Mythal, it was dark here. Fires flickered into life on either side of the eluvian but the rest of the room lay in shadow.

"This is where I leave you," stated the sentinel of Mythal. "I must return to my duty and help rid Mythal's Temple of invaders."

"Thanks for everything," Felassan bowed his head to her.

The weight of his master increased as the sentinel of Mythal released him. "See if the others who serve your master are around," she told him before she backed through the eluvian.

Felassan swallowed and turned his gaze on the dark room. The others who served Fen'Harel? But his master had told him he had "freed" all who served him centuries ago when Fen'Harel took to a more nomadic lifestyle. Perhaps like with those who served Mythal they would have stayed even after their god had left.

With this thought in mind, Felassan picked his way forward. It was hard to keep his master's feet from dragging on the ground. Harder still was just being able to see where he was going. The firelight close to the eluvian did little to aid him the further he moved from it.

A thin sliver of light spilled into the room as a door opened. "Who's there?" someone called as the door was pushed open further. A small child came into view. Her face already marked with the _vallaslin_, marking her as a slave or sentinel of Fen'Harel.

The girl stopped when the light fell over Felassan and Fen'Harel. Her eyes grew wide with shock. But her gaze wasn't on Felassan at all, she was staring at Fen'Harel.

"_Mamae_!" she shouted. "Come quick, it's Fen'Harel, he's hurt!"

At the girl's shout several footsteps raced through the hall beyond the door. The next moment three more elvhen had appeared, all of them wore robes and armor similar to what Abelas and the sentinels of Mythal wore, but in different colors than hers. And all of them had the same _vallaslin_ that Felassan had. There was now no doubt in his mind that these people were the sentinels of Fen'Harel and they had ignored Fen'Harel's wishes.

A moment passed where the sentinels stared at Felassan before they turned their eyes to Fen'Harel. A gasp sounded from a woman and she raced into the room. "We must get him to his quarters," she told Felassan as she took Fen'Harel's other arm.

The other sentinels joined them when they reached the door. Soon they were carrying the unconscious god through the halls at a quick pace. Felassan barely paid attention to the halls. His mind was racing with questions and with herbs he might need to help Fen'Harel. He wasn't certain what could be done to help Fen'Harel at all right now because he didn't understand what had happened himself; neither did the other priests who had passed their knowledge on since Fen'Harel had first become known at the God of Rebellion or, as many preferred to call him, the God of Freedom.

Soon they entered spacious quarts that wouldn't have looked out of place for the ruler of the empire. What Felassan noted; however, was nothing was placed such that it looked important outside of the bed. Most of what dominated the room's items was gifts that had been given to Fen'Harel over the many long centuries of his life.

The sentinels placed Fen'Harel on the bed and backed away. There was a long moment were worried whispers filled the room. The sentinels didn't know what to do any more than Felassan did.

"I need these herbs," he started after several long moments of thought. Most of what he listed off were simple healing herbs. Right then, all he could think on where restoratives and poultices used for the ill. Nothing else seemed like it would be effective with whatever was wrong with Fen'Harel.

There was a moment of pause before a few of them left to gather what Felassan would need. While they were gone, Felassan tried to see what was wrong with Fen'Harel. There were a few minor injuries other than the one Andruil had given him which was still healing well. Other than this all he could see was that his master was exhausted. Whatever had been pulled from him had left him weaker than before. But the effects really weren't that clear to Felassan outside of exhaustion.

Soon the others arrived back with what Felassan had asked for. "_Ma serannas_," Felassan said with a smile to them before he started to mix the herbs together.

It felt as if all eyes were on him as Felassan worked. He tried to ignore them as he ground the herbs into a poultice while others were mixed together for Fen'Harel to drink when he awoke. The more he worked, the easier it became to focus and ignore the fact all of the sentinels of Fen'Harel were still watching him.

He moved to Fen'Harel once the poultices were ready.

"You are the high priest then?" the woman asked in a low breath.

Felassan glanced at her, frowning. "I am," he stated. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just been many, _many_ centuries since Fen'Harel found a dreamer to be the high priest," the woman explained.

"And was willing to take them as such," added another of the sentinels.

This made sense. After all Felassan had gathered that much from conversations with Fen'Harel. No matter how short those conversations were.

He turned back to his work. By the time Felassan was done, some of the color had returned to Fen'Harel's face and his breathing had deepened, easing into one of sleep rather than being ragged and harsh as it had been before.

While he had worked, many of the sentinels had left. Two remained near the door. But neither of them had offered to help Felassan, which he again wasn't too shocked about. The tending of a God while they were asleep or unconscious was left solely to the high priest. At least that was what Abelas had told him.

Felassan stood. Since Fen'Harel was now out of danger he felt it was safe to leave. Granted his master most likely had only been in danger of falling into _uthenera_ to heal. It was the way the Gods healed when no one was around to tend to their wounds or they had been dealt a mortal blow. At least that was both what he had gathered from the previous high priests of Fen'Harel and from what little Abelas had taught him.

To Felassan's shock the sentinels hadn't left the area, only Fen'Harel's chambers. They were waiting just outside and seemed to have multiplied since he had seen them last. He blinked and glanced around. There weren't as many sentinels as Mythal had but he also knew his master wasn't anything like Mythal either. Most people didn't tend to come to a God of Rebellion.

"Please tell us what happened," the woman from earlier stepped forward, her eyes wide with worry.

Felassan glanced around. A part of him wanted to tell them he could later. His eyes felt heavy with exhaustion. He could barely remember the last time he had slept more than a few hours. The race to Mythal's Temple and then the training before the battle had left little time to sleep. But they deserved to know what had happened to the God they served.

"All right."

There was a long moment of silence while Felassan gathered his thoughts. Then he started to tell them all that had happened, starting when they had first set out for the Temple of Mythal to warn her and ending when they had stepped through the eluvian here. He avoided most about what had happened with Andruil, not certain how they would take Fen'Harel's action at trapping a fellow god.

By the end of the story, the others looked uneasy.

"Does this mean there is will be war between all the Gods and Andruil?" asked the woman. "To take another God's life," – she shuddered – "I didn't think it was possible."

"Nor did I," Felassan confessed. "If I hadn't seen it happen with my own eyes I don't think I would believe it either." But, the question was, could a god really die? Perhaps Mythal was still out there, somewhere, and still alive. "And I don't know if it will be or not," he confessed.

Wars had raged for centuries between the nine gods. Whatever unity they once had was long gone. Or so Felassan believed. Most of the gods weren't even too attentive when it came down to the people who worshiped them. He had prayed to each in turn, but only Fen'Harel had answered him.

Felassan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was thinking too much on this. The last day felt as if it had aged him a century when he was still the boy he had been the day before that.

"Is it all right if I get some rest?" he asked, looking at the sentinels around him. "I need a clear mind to check on Fen'Harel later," he confessed.

The woman gave him a gentle smile. "Of course it's all right, _da'len_. It sounds like you've been through a lot." She gestured for him to follow.

The moment they were in a room and the woman pointed Felassan to a bed, he collapsed on the soft sheets. He didn't even notice how soft it was compared to the floor he was used to sleeping on. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

*~ The Past ~*

Cold rain trickled in through the gapes in the wooden shelter the slaves shared with the harts and halla. Felassan shivered and pulled his legs tighter to his body. It had been pure chance that the one of their current masters had decided to let them share this structure at all.

"Great Protector, guide us from this hell," someone whispered nearby in prayer to Mythal.

It was all in vain. None of the gods ever replied to any slave's plea for aid or freedom. Even prayers for a quick death had gone unanswered by Falon'Din. Prayers for knowledge where never given fruit from Dirthamen. Ones for vengeance and justice or protection where just unlikely to be answered from either Elgar'nan or Mythal. The other four gods were just as silent. No one tried to pray to Fen'Harel, the God of Rebellion for fear His price would be too high.

Felassan closed his eyes and curled himself into a tighter ball. No price would be too high. Even if the God of Rebellion asked for Felassan's life as payment or eternal service. Being enslaved to even a cruel god would have better than this at least.

"Please," Felassan whispered, "if you can hear me, please, help me, Great Fen'Harel." He poured all of his will into those words. All of his desire to search out his mother after they had been torn apart. Every last fiber of his being was placed into each word. "I would give up even the hope to find my mother," he continued, whispering each word, "to just be free of these masters and never feel the weight of a wipe against my back again. So, please, even if I must serve you, please help me, Great Fen'Harel."

Just like with the other gods, there was no answer. He sighed and opened his eyes. So much for that. Granted he shouldn't have been so much of a fool as to believe Fen'Harel would care anymore than the other gods did.

At some point Felassan must have drifted into an uneasy sleep.

A shriek tore Felassan awake. His eyes snapped open to fire raging around the camp.

In an instant Felassan was sitting up, his eyes locked on the scene before him. Screams echoed up through the night as they were consumed by the fire or by something else entirely.

Despite the heat from the fire, Felassan shivered. There was power crackling through the air, unlike anything he had ever felt before. His heart raced with fear and excitement. The other slaves had moved back, cowering against the walls, eyes as wild with fear as the animals'.

"Fen'Harel," Felassan whispered the name of the god as he felt himself smile. He had answered after all. Fen'Harel, the God of Rebellion, had come because Felassan had prayed for him to.

The screams died down, flames flickering up towards the night. Even they seemed to be easing down. Then a part appeared in the fire and a lone figure stepped through. The power radiated from him, but he wasn't what Felassan had expected to see. All stories of Fen'Harel pointed to Him as appearing only as wolf within dreams. The ones told of the waking world never describe Him.

If there hadn't been the power coming off of this man, Felassan would have passed him over as normal noble by the finery he wore. His skin was pale and his eyes seemed to give off a faint glow in the night. They were a pale, gray-blue and were locked on Felassan. His features were narrow, sharp and intense. It felt almost like his face had been sculpted to mimic that of a wolf. His hood was down from the fitting, showing a piece of a wolf's jaw on his head. He had no hair which only added to the feeling of power about him rather than taking away from it.

"It was you then," he stated. His voice was light, almost peaceful sounding. In the same moment his voice was filled with a deep wisdom. A wisdom which could only come from many, many centuries of life.

Fen'Harel, for he could be no one else, lifted his hand. The shackles binding Felassan and the other slaves vanished.

"You are free. Use that freedom well." With those words Fen'Harel turned. With a gesture the fire died down to embers before he strode off.

For a long moment Felassan stared after him, ignoring the whispering of the others behind him. Just like that Fen'Harel had left, without asking for payment or anything. It went against everything that Felassan had heard about the god.

Without knowing why, Felassan leapt to his feet and raced after the god. Something pulled him to follow and he didn't know what it was. Perhaps a piece of him knew that Fen'Harel could help him more or perhaps he just wanted to know more about the God of Rebellion, the truth about him rather than just what stories had told him.

*~ X ~*

The halls of the Temple of Fen'Harel were very different from those Felassan had seen in Mythal's Temple. It was darker here, but not in the sense that one would have if it was a dungeon or place to free. Rather it felt like a study, kept in silence. It was a place where the veil was both thin and not in the sense that demons or spirits would push through.

Felassan had woken to find that Fen'Harel was still fine, still sleeping. So he had gone off to explore the temple. He kept away from the sentinels. It felt good to be alone and it gave him time to think on all that had happened since the day Fen'Harel had saved him.

Soon Felassan found himself deep within the temple. Fire flickered in the torches which lined the halls and cast an eerie light over the pasty colored walls. The odd thing about these walls were they were smooth. Felassan moved deeper into this and found a long hall. Here the walls were painted with images he had never even imagined before in his life.

Each step echoed through the room as he walked, eyes wide in awe. The images were dark and filled with blood or sorrow. They depicted battles from many centuries ago against all odds. The ealieriest of the images showed three people glowing with lights: blue, yellow, and green, standing against a tide of darkness. As it progress more joined the battle until there were nine in all.

This was the war against the three Forgotten: Anaris, Geldauran, and Daern'thal. The battles had raged for centuries until, at long last, Fen'Harel had come up with an idea to trick the Forgotten Ones and seal away in the abyss, thus serving the Fade from the physical world with the veil. This part Felassan knew was just another measure to ensure the Forgotten remained locked away from the physical world.

From what he remembered of his mother's tales, there was a great golden city in the Fade which marked the rise of their gods and the entrance into the prison of the Forgotten. All their darkness and taint was held back by the magic of the gods.

Felassan stopped at the end of the images. His eyes locked on the second to last one. It showed the city within the Fade. The nine Gods stood there, each wielding the full force of their power to finish the seal Fen'Harel had started.

As legend went, Fen'Harel tricked the Forgotten into believing he had betrayed his fellow gods and it was this which had lulled them into trusting him. Fen'Harel had then used this trust to trick them once more, trapping them for all eternity. If it was possible for the Forgotten to ever be free of their prison, Felassan wondered if they would take out their rage on Fen'Harel for all he had done to them.

"High Priest Felassan," a soft voice tore Felassan from the images.

He turned to see the woman for the other day looking at him. Her eyes were weary as she glanced at the images as if she didn't want to be here. This was part of their history, a part of it none should ever forget. So why she was so frightened about being down here, Felassan didn't know or really understand.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Fen'Harel is awake and asking for you," she told him.

* * *

**(Author's Note: **All right a little here over my ideas of the Forgotten. It is my belief that taint in the darkspawn comes from the Abyss. Why? What is described to be happening to Andruil is very similar to the effects the taint has on people. Whether it be just the outright taint or that from the read lyruim.

Okay, so I just needed to search a little harder to find the timeline. By the timeline I have Solas being well over eighty centuries old (8000 years) come the events of _Inquisition_. Also, I have noticed there are a lot of inconsistencies when it comes down to Arlathan. I think it has something to do with it being so long ago and so much information having been destroyed by time, the humans, and even the elves. What I am going with is mainly what is said by Abelas and Solas during Inquisition.

The next chapter is the events told from Fen'Harel's point of view rather than Felassan's (so dreams in some cases) but I wanted Felassan to get his two cents in.

Also for any of you wondering, this story isn't going to end as quickly as you may or may not think. I have around forty-five chapters planned at this moment (give or take right now depending on chapters to come).

**Thank you for the reviews guys**.**) **


	11. Chapter 10: Between the Past and Dream

**Please, please review. I really want to know what people think of this story. And I love reading reviews; they mean more than you guys know. **

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Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 10: Between the Past and Dream

*~ The Past ~*

"How are we going to get up there?" Fen'Harel asked. His eyes were locked on the darkness which forever filled the distant sky. The Fade expanded out from that darkness and covered most of the sky. There wasn't a time in the memory of the People this hadn't been true.

"Mythal," Elgar'nan started, ignoring Fen'Harel, "can you get me up there?"

"I don't think we should enter the blackness," Fen'Harel warned. There was something chilling about the darkness swirling from the Fade. It was enough to make his skin crawl.

"Fen'Harel is right," Mythal started, "we should fight them on their terms, not yet."

"It sounds more like the _da'fen_ is just a little coward," growled Elgar'nan. "We can defeat them without the wolf's help, Mythal."

"I didn't even want to join up in the first place!" Fen'Harel snapped. "But I'm here now and I'm going to help."

Elgar'nan snorted. "All you're doing is suggesting we run away with our tails tucked between our legs like cowards without even trying."

"That's not what I said!" Rage boiled through Fen'Harel's veins. "But running in there blind won't do anyone any good!" he snapped.

"Then be a good little wolf and sniff out the area for us!" Elgar'nan shot back.

Fen'Harel swallowed, his eyes wide as he stared at Elgar'nan. It wasn't what he wanted to do. He couldn't prove Elgar'nan right and back down now. "I will then," the words came out harsh and heated despite the cold creeping into Fen'Harel's veins.

"Elgar'nan," Mythal started, "that's far from fair. And you don't need to prove yourself to us, Fen'Harel."

"I said I'd go," Fen'Harel snapped at them, "and I'll go. I'm not doing it to prove myself to anyone, least of all Elgar'nan!" He shot a glare at the fire wielder. Though Fen'Harel knew his words were a lie, he wasn't about to let Elgar'nan know that he wanted to prove that letting Fen'Harel join wasn't a mistake. That he could be useful and would stand by them now no matter what was to come.

*~ X ~*

"You didn't need to prove yourself to anyone."

The voice pulled Fen'Harel from the past. He wasn't too shocked to find he was in the Fade, though it wasn't a place in the Fade he came to often. The spirit who dwelled here was one of Compassion, one of the older Compassion spirits who still lived and hadn't been turned to Fear.

"You could have found another way."

"Compassion is right," it was Wisdom who spoke this time.

Fen'Harel didn't look at either spirit. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps what he had done back then hadn't been necessary, but it was done now for several thousand years. There was no way he could take back what had happened that day. No matter how long he thought on it and no matter what the spirits told him. It was done.

"But you still regret it. The pain is deep, an old wound, twisting and growing in your heart now that what was warned that day is starting to come forth."

Compassion moved. Unlike with Wisdom Compassion was a bright, white spirit. The voice was always male no matter which spirit he came by, all three of Compassion that he had met in his wanderings. But this one spoke with him the most and he knew the best.

"You wanted them to know, to hear the words you had heard, but you didn't tell them? Why?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Fen'Harel whispered. "It's all in the past." He closed his eyes, withdrawing into the memory once more.

*~The Past~*

The place Fen'Harel found himself was damp, twisted almost. It wasn't the darkness he had made it to, rather the Fade closest to the darkness within it. He had entered the Fade many times in his dreams, but this was the first time he was physically here. The place was cold and chilling, unlike the areas he had known well close to his home town. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement go through him.

Despite the damp, cold air, and the feeling that this was a demon's domain, Fen'Harel felt light and happy. To be _physically_ in the Fade hadn't been done yet to his knowledge.

"Go," Elgar'nan hissed at Fen'Harel. "Mythal and I will wait here."

Fen'Harel glanced at the older elvhen and nodded. He kept his features devoid of his excitement and instead started forward into the green tinged landscape of the Fade. Here the dark mass on the horizon seemed all the larger than it did in the physical world. Each step he took towards it, made the feeling of dread increase in him.

Soon he could no longer hear Mythal or Elgar'nan and he knew if he looked behind him, they wouldn't be in sight. But he refused to look back. If he did the small tinge of fear growing in him might burst and he really would run back with his tail tucked between his legs. There was no way he would give Elgar'nan that satisfaction.

That fire wielding mage hadn't even had the courage to enter this far before. This Fen'Harel had up on him at least. He took a deep breath to steady the last of his nerves and continued forward.

There was nothing here. Despite his original belief that a demon ruled over this part of the Fade, nothing moved. There were no taunts he had come to expect when running across demon's domain. It was as if the demon didn't want Fen'Harel as a host, or something else was going on.

A shiver raced through him.

"Well, this is a surprise." The voice was unlike any Fen'Harel had heard before in his life. "I never thought it would be you I would meet first, curious."

"Who are you?" Fen'Harel asked as he turned and looked for the source of the voice.

The voice laughed, a cold laugh which spoke of the dark places under the earth. "My, that is a question. Why not give your name first then I will give mine?"

"If this is some trick to get at me, demon, you will find I won't be swayed," Fen'Harel snarled. The Fade pulsed around him to in force his words.

"Oh-ho!" the voice exclaimed, but it was excitement rather than fear as Fen'Harel had expected. "You really are what I thought you were. I am Geldauran. It is a pleasure to meet you, Fen."

Fen'Harel shivered. That name was one of the Gods' names. Though Fen'Harel didn't know much about him, he did know that if it came down to a fight he would have to give it his all then he might just be able to come out on top. He just had to find the source of the voice, the he could attack. This would be a far better way to prove himself to Elgar'nan than just scouting. To kill one of the gods!

"The name is Fen'Harel now," Fen'Harel snapped. "You'd do well to remember it too, Geldauran."

This made Geldauran laugh again. "Why, it looks like the little wolf doesn't know what I do."

"I'm not a little wolf!" Fen'Harel snarled at this. He knew his anger was drawing on the Fade and that soon his form would take on that of a nightmare. But perhaps it would scare the so called "God."

"But you are a very ignorant one," Geldauran taunted. "Oh, I know all about your kind and the fates that wait you."

"What?" this caught Fen'Harel off guard. "You mean the elvhen you suppress in order to rule over us like gods?" he demanded.

Geldauran laughed again. This time was deeper and harder, as if he found Fen'Harel truly amusing. "An elvhen? Is that what you think you are, _da'fen_?" asked the so called god.

"I am an elvhen," Fen'Harel snarled, "and nothing you say will prove otherwise!" Fen'Harel forced himself to calm down. The god had to be trying to get under his skin and he wouldn't let it work. But he had to keep the god talking in order to learn of its location. "What are the fates which await the People?" he asked

"None," stated Geldauran, "well, none that you need hear without hearing the fate that awaits your kind."

Fen'Harel bared his teeth in annoyance. He was elvhen. Couldn't the God see that? It was like the villagers all over again, believing he wasn't like them just because he had strange abilities like being able to change into a nightmare of a wolf and manipulate the dreams of those who had bullied him.

"Do you wish to hear it, _da'fen_?"

"Fine," he growled.

"If your kind goes to war with mine, two outcomes can happen. One, we will win and trap all of you forever within the Void where you will serve us until the end of time."

"That won't happen!" Fen'Harel snarled, glaring around him as he continued to search for the voice.

"My, you are the cocky one, aren't you?" teased Geldauran. "That leads me to the second fate: your kind will win and take our place as the Gods to the elvhen. You will be viewed as the savior Gods, the ones who are light and good, but this will be just as false. As each of you grows into your rule, hunger for more power will start to split your once unbreakable bonds."

At this Fen'Harel laughed. He couldn't help it, but what Geldauran had said was just ridicules. Elgar'nan didn't trust him. Thus there were no so called "unbreakable bonds" between any of them.

"That's rich," he laughed, "what others do you have? More false taunts." He was goading a God and it was most likely very unwise, but right then Fen'Harel didn't care. The so called God was a false prophet as it was. There was nothing he said which could be true.

A hiss came from the shadows close to Fen'Harel. "You arrogant child. Your ears are closed."

"To a false god like you, yes. What else do you have? More on how we're going to fail when we're not going to ever fail. More taunts on how we're not elvhen."

This didn't get the same response from Geldauran as the last. This time he laughed. "You still think you're elvhen? That you will had a place with the People no matter what happens? You're no mage, you're not even a spirit confused into thinking its flesh."

"What? Of course I'm not a spirit!" Though spirits were friendly and kind to Fen'Harel while he dreamed, he found himself offended at this. "I am elvhen no matter what you say!"

"You aren't," Geldauran taunted, "but I am wasting words on you, I see. So, why not show you instead?" Warm, foul breath touched Fen'Harel's neck. He felt a cold hand lock around his shoulders and felt the burn of it against the exposed skin.

Before Fen'Harel could turn to face Geldauran. Before he could even blink – blinding pain raced through him from his back. A shocked gasp escaped Fen'Harel. He could feel warm blood trickle from his mouth. More heat raced through him from his stomach. Shaking, he looked down to see a normal blade had pierced his stomach from behind. The blade was nothing special, but it was enough to kill him.

"If this kills you, then you're right," Geldauran whispered in Fen'Harel's ear, "you are a normal elvhen. If it doesn't then I am right and you are something more, something of both worlds and, in the same moment, something of neither."

The blade was yanked from Fen'Harel. The Fade swam around him as he staggered and struck a pillar of stone. He felt cold and, yet, warm all at once. His eyes were heavy. He couldn't sleep! He had to see this monster who called himself a god. But there was no fighting it. Fen'Harel collapsed to the ground. Darkness swept him away.

Time held no meaning to Fen'Harel. He was locked in a place which wasn't Fade. He couldn't dream, he couldn't see anything at all here. It was blinding, agonizing. Was this death? No – his mind rebelled against that idea.

He had seen the killing blow. He knew he should be dying. But he had assumed the Fade would be there when he died. He had wanted it to be so that he could live forever within the Fade, exploring its forgotten mysteries.

Fen'Harel gasped, drawing in a ragged breath. He was first aware of the stone pressed again him and the tingling of his arm as it tried to regain feeling. He was next aware of the cold and the stiffness. But there was no pain.

So Geldauran had tricked him. Fen'Harel felt a hot fire rage race through him. He should have remembered that thought defined everything here. The blade had never been real and only his mind had made him think it was.

"Oh, the blade is very real. It took it from the mortal realm myself some time ago," stated the cold voice of Geldauran.

Fen'Harel tried to leap to his feet, but he only managed to pull himself into a kneeling position. The Fade spun around him in skinning circles. He felt weak and shaky.

"I think the Fade just helped speed up your healing process, interesting." Geldauran had vanished into the shadows once more, his voice moving as it had from all sides.

"What is?" Fen'Harel gasped. He couldn't stop shaking. He felt too weak to even stand.

"So if I dealt a killing blow to Elgar'nan and threw him into a fire, would it heal him faster or cause wounds? I'll have to test that if we really do start fighting one another. If nothing else it would be amusing to see."

"What are you talking about?" Fen'Harel gasped. "Your trick of the Fade?"

"It was no trick my defiant _da'fen_. But, rather, the truth coming to light. You are most definitely not an elvhen, but I don't know what you are. The Fade speed up your healing as if you were a piece of it: a spirit; yet, I know you're not that either. How interesting."

The words washed over Fen'Harel as if he had just jumped into a frozen lake. Despite himself, he glanced down to see the blood was very real but the wound had vanished completely, not even leaving a trace that it had been there at all. Then there was the fact he felt so weak. He had only felt this way once before, right when his former master had realized that Fen'Harel wasn't like the other orphaned slaves and had come after him with a sword.

When the blade hadn't killed him Fen'Harel had been hung outside of the village by his arms to starve to death. But now he remembered the blow of the sword and how had fallen asleep after it had cut him and woken to find the wounds gone. It hadn't been death blows, but enough for him to lose several days. He hadn't thought anything of it at the time. But what if what Geldauran said was true? What if he really wasn't an elvhen after all?

"Finally, you're starting to see." Geldauran laughed. "I leave you with that little knowledge, _da'fen_. Next we meet will be as foe or will accept that the world has no real place for something like you." The words became distant as they turned to laughter. The sound echoed in his ears long after it had vanished from the area around Fen'Harel.

He collapsed against the pillar of stone, shaking with fear. The Fade felt all the colder around him, as if it was trying to tell him that this fear was only the start.

*~ X ~*

It was happening just like Geldauran had predicted. They were tearing one another apart. The bonds which had once been stronger than anything had become weak over the centuries without the now Forgotten Gods being a common foe in their lives. Now Andruil was going to kill all the others in order to take their power for her own once her high priest freed her. She already had Mythal's power.

"They will still listen to you," Compassion told Fen'Harel. "All of them still respect you, Fen'Harel. You were the one who came up with the plan that ended the war with the Forgotten and freed us and the physical world from their taint."

"Perhaps they will," Fen'Harel whispered and buried his head in his hands, "but I doubt it will be for that, Compassion."

"They know you and will see you speak the truth, you just need to trust them." Wisdom moved in so she stood on his other side from Compassion. "And to trust yourself. You know what is right and what is wrong. You also know what will happen to the People if one rises where there were once nine."

"Wisdom," he started in a hoarse voice, "do you believe what Geldauran said about us?"

"I believe what you are, is meant for something special," she told him. "Your people will always need at least one of your kind to guide them even if you are not gods."

"Why do they need us?"

"Because the path ahead will be filled with much more pain for them and you. You need them and they need you. You are the reminder of freedom, you are Solas."

He averted his gaze. "I never even told Elgar'nan that it was Geldauran I met that day. I just told I ran into trouble and nothing else. I give half-truths, I hide behind masks and am more than happy to do so. I am not a reminder of freedom, Wisdom. Only a coward."

He stood.

"I couldn't even save Mythal!"

The feeling of Wisdom's touch was comforting. He wanted to lean into the touch, but knew that was impossible. "Show the others what is happening, what you know will happen. You must do this, Solas."

*~ The Past ~*

When Fen'Harel returned to where the others were. It was to see both of them seated together. Elgar'nan held Mythal's hand and was whispering to her in soothing tones. He stopped and stared at them. It wasn't something he hadn't seen before. Several in his home village had been this way before they had ended up being together and having children.

A small breath escaped him and he settled out of sight of them, knowing they hadn't seen his return. Right then a part of him wanted to run out and stop what was happening. Another knew that Mythal would always be like a sister to him rather than a lover. Yet, there had been a brief moment where he had thought that perhaps they could be more.

He shook his head and contented himself to wait.

"Fen'Harel!" Mythal called to him.

He stood and moved so he could be seen. "I wasn't trying to interrupt," he started.

At this Elgar'nan snorted as if he doubted that it hadn't been Fen'Harel's intention. "Did you find anything, _da'fen_."

"Some," Fen'Harel confessed. He didn't want to tell them that he had encountered one of the gods, so he told them only part of the truth that he had found some who served the gods and they had delivered a warning. He told them of the two fates which awaited them if they went to war with the gods.

This made Elgar'nan laugh. "Sounds to me like the so called 'gods' are just scared of us." He grinned, fiery eyes shining with anticipation. "You did will, Fen'Harel. Perhaps you're not as useless as I originally believed you would be."

The words were less harsh than anything else Elgar'nan had ever spoken to Fen'Harel before. A small smile twitched at the corners of Fen'Harel's thin lips. This might have just shown Elgar'nan that Fen'Harel could prove himself a valued member of their group and help to stop the false gods.

*~ X ~*

"Speak with them, they will listen," Wisdom repeated.

Fen'Harel sighed and closed his eyes. Perhaps Wisdom was right. After all these centuries, just maybe they could unite once more against a common foe. He nodded.

"I will call a meeting with them."

The words echoed a little before Fen'Harel found himself being drawn to the waking world. For a long moment he hovered between the waking world and the Fade before, at last, he let himself wake.

A soft bed greeted his fingers. His eyes opened a slit to see a familiar ceiling over him. It took him a long moment to realize the sentinels of Mythal must have helped Felassan take Fen'Harel to his old temple. It took even longer for him to realize that the room was clean, showing no signs of being abandoned.

Fen'Harel sat up and stared at the room as if he wasn't really seeing anything that was there. Rather his mind was still in the Fade with Wisdom and Compassion. A part of him wanted to go back, but he knew both would just continue talking to him about what had to be done.

A small breath escaped Fen'Harel. He closed his eyes.

"Master Fen'Harel," a voice greeted him.

Fen'Harel opened his eyes and several of the sentinels of this temple, kneeling before him.

"We're happy to see you've returned to us."

So they hadn't left the temple after all. It was laughable really. All this time he had hoped that they had listened and left their duty to the temple, realizing that Fen'Harel had no desire to be seen as god anymore.

"Where is Felassan?" Fen'Harel asked.

"High Priest Felassan is currently exploring the temple," one of the sentinels informed Fen'Harel.

"Get him here," Fen'Harel instructed them.

"It will be done." They bowed before leaving the chambers to fetch Felassan.

* * *

**(Author's Note: **I've not yet finished the DLC which came out for Inquisition despite the fact I am recording it and slowly posting it on youtube, thus I don't have all of the lore from there and only know of the reference made by one of the Forgotten because Lady Insanity pointed it out on her videos… yeah I spend most of my time running away from mobs at the start of the DLC (level 18 in hard mode in an area which has level 20-26 mobs, fun times)

Though it might not happen, I do have a "series" in my mind revolving around Solas and the times he's awake. Since the designer notes say he was only asleep from one thousand years and we know the fall of Arlathans was two thousand years ago (from the games).**) **


	12. Chapter 11: Meeting of the Gods

**Please, please review. I really want to know what people think of this story. And I love reading reviews; they mean more than you guys know. **

**Thank you to those who have been reviewing. I really appreciate it. **

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Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 11: Meeting of the Gods

Fen'Harel glanced around the familiar room while he waited. Never had he expected to return here. It was a surprise to see that the sentinels hadn't abandoned the temple perhaps even more so than the fact Fen'Harel was back here. The fact remained, he wasn't a god and neither were the others. Whatever they were, it wasn't a god.

The doors into the room opened, but Fen'Harel didn't turn to them. He knew Felassan and the sentinel had returned. "Leave us," he told the sentinels without even glancing at them. He knew by the sound of the doors closing that they had.

"You summoned me, Master?" Felassan asked.

"Yes," Fen'Harel started, still trying to think on what to do. "I'm going to call a meeting with the others," he told the boy, skipping straight to the point.

"Don't meetings take awhile to arrange?" Felassan asked.

"There isn't time to worry about formalities." Fen'Harel turned to the boy and looked him in the eye. Despite the sleep the boy had gotten he still looked exhausted. No doubt his gifts as a dreamer, but that was a training session which would have to wait. There were far more pressing issues to see to, such as the safety of the others. "Andruil aims to attack us one at a time. If we delay in summoning a meeting one of the others will fall to her and her lust for power."

His voice had remained even and calm throughout this. But he could feel his heart racing a little faster than normal. The sight of Mythal's body, lifeless and ashen was engraved in his mind.

"You really think Andruil will attack the others then?" Felassan asked. There was doubt in the boy's voice. "I know that that Bor'assan just killed Mythal, if that is even fully possible, and nearly took you down. But to kill the rest of you as well? Master, it just doesn't seem possible."

Fen'Harel kept his gaze locked on the boy. There was a part of him which wanted to believe what Felassan was saying was true. But another part of him knew that even if they didn't fully die when their power was taken from them, what remained would be a wisp of life with no power and no body to physically interact with the world. It was something which had never happened to them, but he suspected it was the truth. That Mythal was both gone and wasn't in the same moment.

Even still the threat was very real to the elvhen. If they were to be helped, then the others had to be warned and be ready to stand together against one of their own. It was the only way to stop Andruil before she got out of hand. This time they would have hid he orb from her high priest however, so that there would be no repeating what had happened with Mythal.

"The threat is very real, _da'len_." His eyes were locked on Felassan's and the boy looked away, a little paler than before. "If the others aren't warned and we don't unite against Andruil, we will be weakened too far to help the People while she enslaves every one of them. Is that what you want to see?"

"Of course not, master, but," – he hesitated and bowed his head – "it's just hard to believe such a thing could ever happen to one of you, let alone all of you."

Fen'Harel didn't know how to reply to this and he wasn't certain if this scared him or not. He knew what he and the others meant to the People, but still, to know that they viewed all of them as such powerful beings was a little frightening and empowering all at once. It was this that told Fen'Harel the others might not believe the message any more than Mythal had or he had or even Felassan had.

"I still have to try to convince them," Fen'Harel said this more to himself than to Felassan. With those words he moved away from the boy and started the process of calling the others together. He made certain to avoid summoning Andruil. It was unlikely the others would contact her either. Most of the time it was up to the one of them who called the others to call all of them.

When the messages were sent, Fen'Harel had to force himself to be patient and wait. It took over a week for the first of the replies to come in. The time was passed in the Fade, waking only to see if messages had come in. It was agreed to meet in the three days after the messages came, but the messages held a little discontent on such a fast meeting. Nothing was done quickly anymore especially among the nine of them.

The day of the meeting, Fen'Harel was alone in the dark room which held the eluvian. He had spent some time redirecting it to the meeting point and now just stood there before the shifting, turning magic of the mirror. His eyes half closed as he gathered his thoughts for the meeting.

By now Elgar'nan and the others would already know of Mythal's death. He hoped he could use this as leverage to get them to understand what had to be done to stop Andruil.

"Master."

Felassan's voice was soft as he stepped up to Fen'Harel.

"I just finished preparing for the meeting," the boy told Fen'Harel. It was costume for the High Priests to come but remain by the eluvians where they wouldn't be able to hear much as it was.

Without a word, Fen'Harel stepped through the eluvian and knew that Felassan had followed him. The boy stopped by the eluvian while Fen'Harel continued into the wooded area of the world between. Right in the center was a table where the nine of them met very few centuries in truce. This was natural ground. Whatever war was raging between them, was left behind here.

Once, long ago, this place had been where they had met to discuss how best to help the People rebuild after the fall of the Forgotten Ones. Now, it showed signs of neglect. The last time all of them had been gathered had been by Mythal to stop Falon'Din.

Fen'Harel stopped at the table near his place and glanced around. Only one other figure was moving towards the table, cloaked and hooded in black as always. His fine robes seemed to meld into the shadows, movements slow and thought out. It was Dirthamen.

The Keeper of Secrets stopped by his place and turned his violet gaze on Fen'Harel. Dark strands of hair fell into his face as he bowed his head to Fen'Harel. "The others are coming in a few," Dirthamen told Fen'Harel. "They can't see what is happening. Their ears will remain closed."

"Perhaps, but if I don't try to warn then, they will share in Mythal's fate," Fen'Harel stated even knowing Dirthamen already knew this.

"Their fate will be worse, for they will fall at Andruil's own hand rather than just by her high priest's." Dirthamen kept his eyes locked on Fen'Harel. "If they refuse to listen, meet me later tonight in the place where Wisdom dwells."

Fen'Harel just nodded. The others were approaching from different directions. Soon Falon'Din stood beside his twin while Elgar'nan stopped beside Fen'Harel. There was an empty place beside him where Mythal would have been. June and Sylaise stood beside one another. There was another empty place where Andruil would have been, showing that Fen'Harel hadn't summoned her. Ghilan'nain stood beside the empty place and Falon'Din.

"Why have you called us here, Fen'Harel?" Elgar'nan asked. His tone boarded on polite, but it held edge to it, showing barely contained anger.

"Mythal was killed over a week ago by Bor'assan," Fen'Harel started.

"We know this," snapped Elgar'nan, his fiery eyes narrowed with impatients. "And all of us have more important things to hear than old news. Her territory will be divided among us," he told them as he turned his gaze on the others. "All of us can take the information needed from her main temple. We—"

"You're missing the point," Fen'Harel snarled at Elgar'nan. "I didn't call you here to stop spitting on her corpse when it's barely cold. The most pressing issue right now is Andruil!"

Ghilan'nain let out a light laugh. "What about her? Andruil only did what some of us had been thinking for a long time now: taking out the one person holding us back."

Falon'Din nodded. "Mythal's ideals were old. She was stopping all of us from expanding our reach over the People and truly uniting the faithful."

"Uniting the faithful?" Fen'Harel felt his lips curl into a sneer at these words. "Is that what you call what you were doing, Falon'Din?"

"It was my right and Mythal called all of you together to stop me!" snapped Falon'Din. "Are you going to try and take her place as our so called 'guiding voice,' _Uncle_." Falon'Din spat the relation as if it were something foul rather than the way he had used to say it with such gentleness and love.

"I am no Mythal," Fen'Harel started, "and I know I can never be her. But you must listen. If you decide to fight one another rather than uniting against Andruil, you _will_ share in Mythal's fate. You will be killed!"

Sylaise and June exchanged worried looks. Perhaps they would heed Fen'Harel. They knew their sister well enough to know that she had changed drastically from the person all of them had once known.

It was Ghilan'nain who spoke instead, "Mythal was growing weak in the heart and body. A high priest took her down rather than Andruil and she needed you to help her stop Andruil the first time. Andruil is the one who should be sided with and not a traitor who is more likely to turn on their kin like you!"

"I didn't kill Mythal!" Fen'Harel snarled.

"But you did attack Andruil first," Ghilan'nain pointed out with a sneer.

"She had attacked Mythal before that," Fen'Harel snapped. He took a deep breath, trying to reign in his rage.

"We only have your word there, Fen'Harel," June pointed out. "Andruil only did what she had to in order free herself from being imprisoned."

"Did she go a little too far?" Sylaise started. "Yes, but she did what she had to. Perhaps Mythal's fate was what was needed to free Andruil from that trap. Andruil was in the right to have her freedom."

Fen'Harel opened his mouth.

"All there is one word against another," Elgar'nan told Fen'Harel. "And you didn't even invite Andruil to defend herself against your accusations."

No one looked at Dirthamen and Fen'Harel couldn't turn to the Keeper of Secrets for help. It wasn't the answer to have him tell them that the same fate awaited them that had befallen Mythal.

"Now, back to the matters of importance." Elgar'nan turned his gaze back to the others. He returned to the matter of dividing up Mythal's territory among them, leaving Fen'Harel out of those who would get territory and people. Though Fen'Harel wanted none of it as it was.

"Enough!" Fen'Harel shouted after several hours of this. Her glared at each of them in turn. "You care more for territory than your own lives?" he demanded. "Andruil seeks your very essence," he told them. "Even if a part of you survives it, you will no longer have the form you do now. We can just ignore her or what she has planned for the People."

"What she does with her following is her own business," Ghilan'nain told Fen'Harel.

"As for this threat, you could be just trying to use us to gain more of her territory," June pointed out.

"I don't give about her territory," Fen'Harel snarled. "I don't want to see any of you falling to Mythal's fate!"

"Mythal only had her sentinels and no soldiers," Sylaise pointed out. "Those around my temples would fight an invading army no matter whose banner they carried."

June nodded. "She's welcome to try and take my power. But she'll fail."

"Enough of this, Fen'Harel. If you don't want to join us in more practical and real matters then return to your wanderings. We'll divide up your territory as well."

"We should just do that," Ghilan'nain stated. "He's not interested in being a god anymore. I've heard of him wandering pretending to be like another of the People when he's not."

"Perhaps we should just void his position here," Falon'Din stated. "Uncle has no wish to be a god then he has no place among us anymore."

"My choice to wander among the People has nothing to do with my position among you." It took a lot for Fen'Harel to keep his voice even. "I am still the same person who all of you stood beside to defeat the Forgotten."

"Are you?" a cold voice asked.

Fen'Harel felt himself stiffen and he turned his gaze to the position across from him. Sure enough Andruil was striding towards her place.

"You run around, walking amongst the People and changing the lives of slaves when you should leave well enough alone. God of Rebellion or not, you're actions aren't of a God but rather of a dividing influence. You're ripping apart the elvhen, not me."

"Ah, I see you got the message, Andruil," Elgar'nan said with a bow of his head. His golden hair fell from behind his pointed ears with the motion.

"My thanks at sending it, Elgar'nan. At least one of your remembers that I too have a right to be here." She turned her brown gaze on Fen'Harel and almost seemed to be mocking him. "I move for a vote to remove Fen'Harel from among us," she said with a slight smile.

"I second it," Ghilan'nain stated.

The world seemed to spin around Fen'Harel. Just like that he was going to be cast out from his family. While he had known they were splitting, he had never thought all of them would start to turn on him like this. It felt unreal as if the very ground would give out under him and fade from all realty.

"Then the vote will be held in a few weeks," Elgar'nan told them. "Rest and think carefully on this matter." He turned to Fen'Harel. "Fen'Harel, you will come to the meeting, but aren't allowed to vote. If you are removed, you must leave. You're eluvians will be sealed, territory divided among us, and you will be stripped of your standing among the People."

The words snapped Fen'Harel from his shock. "Hold your meeting," he started in harsh tones, "cast me out for all I care. All I have ever done was for you and the good of the People!" With those words he turned on heel and strode away from the others.

"Master," Felassan straightened as Fen'Harel approached. "How did it go?" the boy asked once they were back through the eluvian.

"Leave me," he said in soft tones.

"What?"

"Get out!" Fen'Harel shouted at the boy.

Felassan stared him before he nodded and raced from the room. Only once the doors had snapped closed did Fen'Harel collapse to the ground. Alone he let the pain which had been welling up in him come forth. A silent tear slid down his face. Was this truly to be his fate? To be cast out and discarded by those he had thought of as his family?

Perhaps he should leave them to the fate which awaited them. But then what? The People would suffer and, despite their words and actions today, he still loved them as his family. He couldn't just let them die, not like that.

*~ X ~*

It had taken a long time for Fen'Harel to fall asleep and enter the Fade. He wasn't shocked to find himself by the ancient tree in the Fade where Wisdom was normally found. He also wasn't shocked to see her there speaking with Dirthamen.

Both cut off their conversation as Fen'Harel neared.

"I am sorry," Wisdom told him. "I thought they would see the wisdom in what you had to tell them."

"They are blind, ears closed forever to the truths of another among them," Dirthamen. "They would rather frame you and let it be believed you are to blame rather than see it is Andruil's greed at work now. That she has been changed, tainted and corrupted by the Void."

"There has to be away to get them to see the truth," Fen'Harel said, looking between Wisdom and Dirthamen. "Away for them to be protected and safe from Andruil."

Wisdom and Dirthamen exchanged a look. There was hesitation in Dirthamen's face as he turned back to Fen'Harel. "Without them listening today, they will never listen again. Andruil will whisper into their ears that it is you who is the one aiming to take power and not her, cast all blame on you. It is easier for them to see you as the antagonist here than her."

Fen'Harel gaped. "Is it because of the plan used to stop the Forgotten? All of them knew I wasn't really betraying them. I had told them it was necessary to gain the Forgotten's trust in order to trap them."

"I know."

"But they no longer see this as being true," Wisdom told him.

"And all of us will follow mother but our fate will be worse than hers," Dirthamen told him. "There is but one way to stop her and protect both us and the People."

"What way?" Fen'Harel asked, looking at Dirthamen. There was a flicker of hope deep in his heart. If there was away he had to take it. They couldn't fall like Mythal. He couldn't let them.

Dirthamen just looked at Fen'Harel with sad eyes.

At once it came to Fen'Harel what Dirthaman was telling him to do. "No," he shot down the idea. "I can't and won't do it."

"It's the only way," Wisdom told him, "and you must be the one to act. It is you place to guide the People now."

"Even if mother finds a new body and continues gain power, her vision will shift to revenge. The People need one of us, the one out of us who has always seen a future where all can be free no matter their race or origin."

"What you're asking, I can't do it." Fen'Harel stared between them. "I don't have that kind of power anymore and it took almost everything I had to do seal them in slumber within the Void. I can't do such a thing to the others. To my family."

"But you do have the power, more than enough power," Wisdom told him. "You've been storing it, gathering it into your orb for centuries now, ever since the fall of the Forgotten. The power is more than enough to do what is necessary to keep the others safe, to stop their wars, and to stop Andruil."

"I will be sealed with the others," Dirthamen told him. "I can't fight for the People and if I stayed out I would only fall to Andruil or her high priest, giving her more power."

"If I do this, I will seal myself with you," Fen'Harel stated. "None of us should remain. It would be better for the People that way."

Dirthamen shook his head. "No, Uncle. Andruil won't be at the meeting. Someone has to stand against her."

"And someone must guide the People in the centuries to come."

"If you fall in battle against Andruil, our people will eventually fall. You must be there to guide them as all of us once were. You've never lost sight of what was the most important: the people. You can advise them and guide them, lead them if necessary. I can't and the others would sooner rule over them as indifferent gods than physically aid the People anymore."

There was a pause before Dirthamen continued, "Understand that if you fall in battle against Andruil even if you manage to seal her, our people will forever see you as the Dread Wolf, the traitor to his kin. But you must never give up on the people or lose sight of what is the most important."

Fen'Harel looked away from them, feeling sick. "I'll give them one more chance," he whispered, "then do as you say." The Dread Wolf? Fen'Harel didn't much like the sound of that.

"They won't listen, Uncle, but do what you must. I understand that this isn't easy."

Not being easy was understatement. If he did this he would not only start to lose the trust of the people, but would completely lose the trust of the others. But if it was the only way, then he would do it. It was the way to save them, right?

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**(Author's Note: **I sort of have it as each god having their own power. Fen'Harel has powers over the Fade: dreams, nightmares, and so forth. Dirthamen can see glimpses of the future and past.

Also, no we are not nearing the end of the book, just an extremely important spot in it.**) **


	13. Chapter 12: Out of Pure Pride

**Please, please review. I really want to know what people think of this story. And I love reading reviews; they mean more than you guys know. A special thanks to Fen'lin and all my other reviewers! **

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Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 12: Out of Pure Pride

Fen'Harel didn't leave the Fade after speaking with Dirthamen. There was time before the meeting and he needed that time to think on what Dirthamen had told him. So he stayed in the one place he had loved to explore: the Fade. Despite being here, he felt unease creeping over him.

Each step he took led him in no particular direction. For all he knew he could have wandered into a demon's domain and not have noticed. The fact remained that where he went here didn't matter. All he could think on was what Dirthamen had told him.

No matter what was to come they were still his family. He had to believe they would see the truth. That they would follow Mythal's fate if they didn't listen to him. It was the only way for all of them to live and still be free. But what had freedom done with any of them?

A shiver raced through Fen'Harel as he drew to a stop. He had been so lost in the thought he hadn't noticed he had walked straight to the Golden City. His eyes were locked on the city which marked the prison for the Forgotten, the barrier between the Fade and the Void.

Careful not to disturb the wards, Fen'Harel mounted the steps into the great city. His footsteps echoed with an almost haunting tune. The battles raged here over centuries seemed like a distant memory now. The Fade and the mortal world had both been healed of the corruption which had once tainted both realms.

Long ago all nine of them had stood united, fighting side by side closer than any blood family. It had been a time where they would have done anything to help one another. Now – now there was only war and mistrust between each of them. Yet, there was still hope, though dim, they could unit again. That war could end between them and they could aid the people as they once had. It wasn't too foolish of him to believe they could unit once more against a common foe, was it?

He was nearing the center of the great city now. It was a curious place where the nine of them had stood together in order to finish sealing the Forgotten behind a barrier. From time to time he, Elgar'nan, and Mythal had physically returned to the Fade and created more barriers around the Void. But there was no way they could get out unless someone destroyed the barriers on this side.

A lone figure stood in the very center of the city, eyes closed and face pointed towards the sky. Fen'Harel stopped. There was no mistaking those gold and red robes which almost blended with the city around them.

"I figured you would eventually arrive here," Elgar'nan stated without moving. "I do hope you didn't take anything that happened today personally, Fen'Harel."

Fen'Harel took a deep breath before he strode over to the older man. "It was hard not to," he told Elgar'nan. "Do you really wish for me to no longer stand by you or the others?"

At last Elgar'nan lowered his gaze and opened his eyes a slit. "I can't say," he started in even tones. "There's no denying what you have been up to the last several centuries. In the same moment we can't just kill you either."

Fen'Harel's jaw tightened.

"And then there are the others. Ghilan'nain, June, and Sylaise believe Andruil's word over yours. That it was really you who killed Mythal and took her power."

"I would never harm Mythal," Fen'Harel had to fight to keep a snarl from his voice. If he was the first to add a temper here, this could escalate into a battle because it would trigger Elgar'nan's even shorter temper.

"And, yet, it is far easier to believe you would turn against her than it is to believe Andruil would." Elgar'nan looked at Fen'Harel. His expression almost fierce.

"You believe her word over mine then?" Rage raced through him. It was getting harder and harder to keep his voice calm.

"You were there," Elgar'nan started. "Even if she wasn't killed by your hand, you still could have acted sooner to save her."

"Don't you think I know that?" Fen'Harel snapped, his anger getting the better of him. "You should have acted when Andruil first attacked Mythal and not waited to act. You are as much at blame for her death as I am!"

Elgar'nan's eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened and this was all Fen'Harel needed to know he had triggered Elgar'nan's tempter. The next moment – pain exploded through Fen'Harel's face. He stumbled back, clutching his burning jaw.

"Curb your tongue," snarled Elgar'nan. "Remember what you would have been without me, _Fen_," he spat Fen'Harel's original name.

"Without you?" Fen'Harel straightened, voice soft with his scorn. "Mythal was one who trusted me and the one who brought me into the fold, not you."

The older man's rage reacted with the Fade around him. Within moments fire spread around him, seeming to come from him.

Fen'Harel backed away. His own anger still raw in him for him to forgot enough common sense to not try and calm Elgar'nan.

"You dare," growled Elgar'nan, his eyes burning with the light of the fire. "You were nothing more than a mangy stray before Mythal and I found. Before you learned what you really were."

"And what would that be?" Fen'Harel's voice was cool but his stance was tense, ready for the fight he knew was about to come. "Leaches, feeding off the good will of the People?"

A roar of raw rage tore through the air. The next moment Elgar'nan's form was consumed by the fire. The molten fire charged towards Fen'Harel.

Fen'Harel uncoiled from his tensed position and dodged Elgar'nan. The Fade gathered around him as he straightened once more. Shadows wisped from Fen'Harel as he grew in size. His massive claws scraped against the golden ground. His maw parted, long fangs bared as he gathered forth what power he could.

A part of him wanted to shout that he didn't want to fight Elgar'nan. But a larger, anger filled part of him wanted to rip the older man to shreds. The rage simmered deep in Fen'Harel, tearing through his veins as fire. He crouched down ready to pounce on Elgar'nan.

"You dare speak of such things!" screamed Elgar'nan as he turned, flames licking out around him. "Know your place, God of Rebellion!"

"My place," Fen'Harel snarled. "I've never forgotten what my place is." He curled his lip and lowered himself further, every muscle tense. "You're the one who's forgotten everything!"

Another scream tore through the air. Fire raced out around the area. The normal dingy, green tint of the Fade turned harsh in the light of the molten flames.

A barrier erupted around Fen'Harel. The flames pressed against the magical energy, nearly shattering it. More flames followed in wave after powerful wave. Fen'Harel skidded back, forcing every last scrap of his energy into the barrier now.

The rage Fen'Harel had felt was still there and lending him strength, but it wasn't enough. With his power still drained from Bor'assan's move, he couldn't hold out with a barrier much longer let alone thinking of returning his own attack.

Wisps of shadow melted from Fen'Harel. He gasped, elven once more, as he collapsed to his knee. Sweat beaded his forehead as he continued to force all his strength into the barrier.

The barrier shattered before him. Elgar'nan raced forward as Fen'Harel tried to muster the strength to raise another barrier.

Too late. Elgar'nan took hold of Fen'Harel's collar and slammed him back into a wall. "How dare you," Elgar'nan growled. "You truly have no place among us any longer, brother."

Pain lanced through Fen'Harel's face moments before Elgar'nan released him. He collapsed to ground, grasping his nose. Rage simmered in Fen'Harel still. He glared up at Elgar'nan through narrowed eyes.

"You had more honor when the Forgotten were still a threat," he snarled. "I don't know you anymore, _brother_." Fen'Harel spat blood at Elgar'nan's boots.

Elgar'nan turned back towards Fen'Harel, fire gathering around him once more.

Before Elgar'nan could lash out, Fen'Harel forced himself back into the waking world.

His eyes snapped open as he gasped. The dark ceiling of his old chambers greeted Fen'Harel. His heart raced and the rage still filled him.

He sat up, his entire body shaking from the drain of the battle in the Fade. Fresh blood oozed from his nose. While the break had happened in the Fade, Elgar'nan's power still affected him even here in the waking world. The nose wasn't broken here, just bleeding. That was the only plus side.

As he pressed a cloth to his face to stop the blood flow, Fen'Harel felt as the last of the rage dimmed down. It left him feeling cold and ill in its wake.

"What's happened to us?" he whispered to himself and closed his eyes.

Everything was getting messed up. The fighting would only worsen. He closed his eyes tighter against the anguish which was fast replacing his rage.

*~ The Past ~*

Years had passed with the only sign of change the twins. They'd been born a few years ago and would soon enter the fight alongside their parents. Fen'Harel stared at the two of them as they played just outside the caves their group took shelter in while in the mortal realm. It was on a peak deep in the Forestback Mountains. For some reason the place was easier for them to enter the Fade and then Void. Though the entering of the Void was done only when needed. The corruption which dwelled there – Fen'Harel shivered more from the memory than the cold which hung over this part of the world.

"I got you!" Falon'Din declared from where he lay on top of his brother.

Dirthamen wiggled out from under his brother without uttering a word. He then dodged Falon'Din with ease this time. There was something about the boy which allowed him to see glimpses of the future and past. Even the now was open to him. He spent much of his time either alone in silence or with Fen'Harel in thought as Fen'Harel gathered what information he could on the Fade and other pieces of information they needed to defeat the "Gods."

"Falon'Din!" Fen'Harel called to the more hyper of the two. "I don't think Dirthamen wants to play that game."

Falon'Din pouted. "He doesn't want to play any game, ever." His eyes lit up as he turned to Fen'Harel. "Uncle, will you play with me?"

A small smile appeared on Fen'Harel's lips. He stood and shifted into his wolf form.

"Yeah!" Falon'Din raced over to him and tackled him. The two of them tumbled to the ground as Fen'Harel gave a fake yelp of alarm.

The boy rolled off of Fen'Harel before he turned and tackled him once more. A grunt escaped Fen'Harel as the boy landed hard on his ribs.

A soft laugh came from somewhere behind Fen'Harel. "You two look adorable together."

Fen'Harel lifted his head to see it was Mythal. Amusement shown in her yellow eyes as she watched Fen'Harel and Falon'Din. It looked as if she was barely containing her laughter at the sight of them.

"Uncle was playing with me," Falon'Din told his mother and he slid off of Fen'Harel.

"Humph," Elgar'nan grunted as he stepped out of the cave as well. "There are far more important matters to see to than playing with kids, Fen'Harel."

Fen'Harel straightened and shifted back to his elvhen form. "Such as?" he asked in cool tones. "The _gods_ have been making themselves scarce for the past several weeks. We can't do anything until they make a move."

At this Elgar'nan scowled. He moved away without uttering another word. The older man seemed rather annoyed at all which was going on. Though, Fen'Harel couldn't blame him for being unnerved by the gods' silence. But he had been able to learn from their silence than during the time they were attacking the mortal realm.

"Perhaps you should return to your research. I can see to the children." Mythal held his gaze, almost pleading with him.

A small sight escaped Fen'Harel and he nodded. There would be time to enjoy when the gods were defeated. Until then, Elgar'nan was right, stopping the false gods was their priority, even if he didn't agree with Elgar'nan ignoring his sons.

Still the past several years had seen a shift in the way Elgar'nan was around Fen'Harel. Sometimes it felt as if they were brothers, bound in all but blood. Others it felt as if they were ready to bash in one another's skulls. Which he guessed was still what brothers did.

*~ X ~*

The thoughts of the past died away, leaving Fen'Harel feeling all the more hallow on the inside. Why did they have to drift apart like this? Have war erupt between them until it was all any of them cared about anymore? Too many centuries had passed now since they had been allied against the Forgotten.

In the end, it had been foolish of Fen'Harel to think he could show them that Andruil meant to harm the People. That she was going to kill them in order to gain more power. They could care less what happened to the People now. A part of him wondered if he would ever fall into that as well.

Perhaps he had long ago before he had taken to wandering the world. But now… the truth was Dirthamen was right. In some ways the People still needed them. In others they were only causing the People great harm.

Fen'Harel took a deep breath and stood. He crossed over to where he had hidden is Foci. His hand touched the uneven, swirling surface of the Foci. It was warm to the touch, pulsing as if it sensed what Fen'Harel intended to do.

"Forgive me," he whispered and closed his eyes.

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**(Author's Note: **I love writing little Falon'Din. He's so cute, sort of reminds me of two characters I wrote into my Trinity Blood series.

Also sorry for this being such a short chapter. There wasn't much I wanted to do in this chapter. **) **


	14. Chapter 13: Shattered Hopes

**Please, please review. I really want to know what people think of this story. And I love reading reviews; they mean more than you guys know. **

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Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 13: Shattered Hopes

Time passed all too slowly for Fen'Harel's liking. He spent most of his time in the Fade. Even then he avoided most of the places in the Fade he knew one of the others might be in while they dreamed. Though he doubted they would be there in the first place. Unlike him they didn't care for spending time on end in the Fade. It reminded them of the war. But, perhaps that was what was needed.

Fen'Harel shook his head to clear it and returned his attention to the memory he had found while wandering the Fade. The details were lost on him for the most part. It was sad because he had thought a good find in the Fade would help him forget all that was happening in the now, but it didn't. Instead he was wasting the memory by thinking on what could be and might be.

In reality there were no such could be and might be. The others would have made up their minds by now. Which meant there was only one way left to him to save them. Even after the fight with Elgar'nan or more because of it, he knew that he had seal them away to protect them from Andruil.

Then, what if Andruil was only after him and Mythal for what they had done? No. Dirthamen had seemed certain she would attack each of them in turn. And that, for some odd reason, only Fen'Harel should remain to stop her. That he had to remain after this? No. He wouldn't accept that. If he sealed the others, he should follow them once Andruil was sealed away as well. None of them should remain awake and in the mortal world. It would be for the best, right?

Yet, Dirthamen had seemed certain something was going to happen to the People. That the People would need one of them no matter what to help guide them. Perhaps even if the People no longer knew Fen'Harel as Fen'Harel – but that was impossible. Sure while he wandered he was sometimes mistaken for a noble but it was only for a little while until they noticed the power he held.

But if it was possible. To be seen as one of them rather than as the God most thought he was. The mere idea of it made his heart skip a beat with a mixture of excitement and fear. For such a thing to occur, he would have to change his name, destroy all signs of who he was. It would be a life which was built on half-truths, if not outright lies. In the end, such a life would be hard, even the slightest slip up would end up revealing he wasn't who he told those around he was.

Fen'Harel let out a long breath. There was no point in remaining in this memory. He'd not been able to track any of it as it was. What a waste. The thought was bitter in his mind as he left the memory and returned to Fade. It was unlikely he was stumble across this memory again and even if he did he wouldn't know that it was the same one. Perhaps that was a good thing.

A small breath escaped Fen'Harel. He stopped and looked towards the Golden City. Where he stood in the Fade it was hidden from him. But even from here he could make out the magic of the barrier which separated the Fade from the Void. The soft golden light had once warmed him when he looked at it. Now it only chilled him with the reminder of what it was.

So much had changed and so much more was going to change. He closed his eyes and listened to the Fade. He closed his mind to all the sounds of the People and just listened. At least here he could feel so much more than he thought was possible. Here he was alone, with only his thoughts and occasional spirit for company.

But he couldn't stay here any longer. By now three weeks would have gone by. It was time for the meeting. Dread settled in his heart. What he was about to do was betray those who he thought of as closer than any blood.

He took a deep breath before he forced himself to open his eyes. When he did it wasn't the Fade which greeted him but rather the dark ceiling of his old chambers. The soft rug pressed against his back rather than the bed. His gaze locked onto the stone and hangs around it. If he could have gotten away with it he wouldn't have even slept in these rooms at all. Even the rug felt too soft compared to certain places he had been sleeping in the past century.

A small breath escaped him as he sat up. Today was the day. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. In his heart he knew there were no more chances left to the others if he hoped to protect them from Andruil. But there was always the small part of him which tugged with fear and worry that what he was about to do wasn't the way. Perhaps he could find another? The voice had been nagging him on and off for weeks now.

No. He opened his eyes and stood. If he didn't do this, they would follow Mythal. Dirthamen was certain of this which meant whatever hope there had been before now of another solution was gone. He had to do this. But did he have to remain awake or free once Andruil had been stopped? Perhaps not. If there was a way around that he would either find it or do as Dirthamen asked and aid the People.

His steps seemed almost hallow as Fen'Harel left his chambers and moved to the eluvian. For a long moment he just stared into the shifting surface, his hand resting on the bag which held his Foci. The orb felt almost warm through the bag as if it knew what he was about to use it for.

"Master," Felassan's voice sounded behind Fen'Harel. "I'm ready when you are." There was no fear or worry in the boy's voice. But the boy knew little of what was about to happen. Fen'Harel hadn't even told him what this meeting was supposed to be about.

"You are to wait here," Fen'Harel told the boy without looking at him. "This is a meeting I must go to alone."

"I don't understand, Master." Confusion had crept into Felassan's voice. There was a pause before the boy repeated, "I don't understand why, but I will do as you ask of me."

"Thank you, _da'len_." Fen'Harel closed his eyes and bowed his head without turning. Then he took a deep, steadying breath. He opened his eyes and stepped through the eluvian.

As expected he and Dirthamen were the first two there. A part of Fen'Harel had hoped the others would have been there waiting for him, but he knew they were unlikely to come quickly just like with the last time.

"Are you ready, Uncle?" Dirthamen asked, his soft eyes locked onto Fen'Harel.

"As I'll ever be," Fen'Harel confessed. His heart flickered a little and his hand still rested on the bag.

"I will do what I can to aid you," Dirthamen stated, "but then I must be sealed with the others as well."

Fen'Harel nodded, not trusting himself to speak in that moment. He felt almost sick with what he was about to do. They were his only family. Ah, but they were his family which had been about to betray him. The conflict raged raw in his mind and twisted his heart with the pain of all the emotions and thoughts.

Over the next hour the other came. None of them spoke to him or even glanced in his direction. It made I all too clear what they had decided over the past several weeks. He doubted some of them had even needed a full minute to decide his fate. His eyes traveled over Ghilan'nain and June the two who had spoken the most out against him over the years outside of Andruil.

The last one to arrive was Elgar'nan, stopping a few paces away from Fen'Harel than normal. "The vote is ready to be cast," he stated, not even asking if the others had made up their minds or not.

Like the others he didn't even glance at Fen'Harel. It felt as if Fen'Harel had already been removed from their ranks even before the vote was cast.

Fen'Harel snaked his hand into his bag. His long fingers closed over the Foci. Warmth seeped into his hand as he felt power surge through his fingertips.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dirthamen give the slightest bow of his head in the signal that it was now or never.

Fen'Harel turned to the others. "You may think that I am the issue, but I'm not. Even if you will never see it, even if you will never again see me as one of you, I will not stand idly by and watch as you destroy yourselves, the People, or are killed by another!" With those words and took out of the Foci.

Green light erupted from the black orb. It raced through the room, striking June and Sylaise before they could even register what was happening. They collapsed so the table with a dull thumbs, their breathing deep as they were forced into uthenera.

"What?" Ghilan'nain started but she only had time to take a step back before the energy struck her as well. She crumpled to the ground, hair falling over her face.

Sylaise and Falon'Din followed. Both unable to put up a fight before the energy struck them.

"You dare!" Elgar'na shrieked and leapt towards Fen'Harel.

Dirthamen acted faster. He collided with his father and the two of them stuck the table. They rolled, Dirthamen struggling to keep his father under control.

"Now!" Dirthamen shouted. "Hit us both now!"

Fen'Harel hesitated, looking at Dirthamen. The younger man glared at him, eyes filled with determination and a silent plea. Fen'Harel took a deep breath and did as Dirthamen asked.

The two of them fell still, releasing one another as their breathing deepened as well.

Near to the eluvians the High Priests had fallen as well. The magic having only grazed them. But it had been enough for their younger minds and weaker bodies to fall into the same deep uthenera as their masters.

Fen'Harel lowered his Foci and stared at the sleeping forms around him. A numbness had fallen over his heart and mind. But he wasn't done. Placing them into the sleep was only the start of it.

He moved to each eluvian in turn, shattering it as he slowly severed this realm from all the others. Only one eluvian would remain as a gateway between this realm and the mortal and it was already sealed beneath _Tarasyl'an Te'las_. He stopped by that eluvian and finished creating the barriers around this realm to ensure none could open the gateway without the keys and to ensure that the others would remain in their slumber while the eluvian remained sealed.

At last he moved back to his eluvian. It would be directed elsewhere then sealed so that it could never make contact with this realm again no matter how hard one tried.

When he stopped on the other side, he found himself just staring into the shifting eluvian. His legs buckled. The cold floor flew up to greet him as he fell into darkness.

* * *

Elven phrases used:  
_Tarasyl'an Te'las _– The place where the sky was held back "Skyhold"

* * *

**(Author's Note: **Sorry about this chapter being so short, but I really didn't want a flashback here.**) **


	15. Chapter 14: Where the Heart Dies

**Okay, enough with the please review stuff. It doesn't work anyways :(  
****To those of you who do review, thank you **_**so**_** much, it does mean the world to me to know people like this story.**

* * *

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 14: Where the Heart Dies

It was odd that Fen'Harel hadn't wanted to Felassan to come along. In fact it was odder than odd. All of the gods always had their current high priest with them whenever they went to the meetings. The fact that Fen'Harel hadn't wanted Felassan there troubled him. Then there had been the way Fen'Harel had looked.

His master's skin had been pale and he had sounded almost sick. The past several weeks had been like this. Each day it had felt as if his master was getting sicker and sicker; yet, Felassan knew it had nothing to do with an actual illness.

Felassan took a deep breath to steady himself. It took a great deal of effort to not pace the length of the room while he waited. He didn't want to leave in case the others thought that Fen'Harel had returned. In the same moment, he wanted to run as fast as he could towards his master. The way Fen'Harel had sounded before leaving, scared Felassan far more than just about anything else.

"It's fine," he told himself sternly. "Nothing is wrong. Your master just has a lot on his mind." Even as Felassan said this aloud to himself, he doubted that this was all it was. Something was going on, something that Fen'Harel didn't want to talk about.

He knew this because of the day he had found Fen'Harel with bloodied nose. The only thing about it was, while it had been bleeding as if someone had broken the God's nose, nothing of the such was true. Fen'Harel had said it didn't matter it was just something that had happened while he'd been in the Fade and to leave it there.

Felassan was torn from his thoughts as Fen'Harel backed out of the eluvian. A long, low breath eased from Felassan's lungs. Nothing was wrong after all.

Felassan stepped towards his master. Then he saw something was wrong. Energy crackled off his master's Foci which hovered just over one of his hands and there was something almost hallow about his master as he stared unseeing into the shifting magic of the eluvian.

The Foci struck the ground was a loud _clunk_ which rang in Felassan's ears. Before he could even rejester what was happening, Fen'Harel collapsed to floor.

"Master!"

Felassan raced over to Fen'Harel as the room started to darken. His eyes were torn from Fen'Harel to the eluvian. The pure, shifting blue surface was dying away. Darkness crept over the shifting surface, stilling it. The eluvian was being sealed before Felassan's eyes.

"Master!" Felassan's heart leapt as he turned back to his master and shook him. "Master, wake up! Your eluvian. Master!"

Herbs. He needed herbs. His fingers fumbled over of the pouch he carried at his belt. Several dried leaves fell from the pouch. He snatched them back and started to crumble them in an attempt to make a quick healing mixture. He passed the crushed leaves over his master's lips.

A gasping sound came from his master. The next moment Fen'Harel stirred and started coughing. He rolled onto his side, still coughing.

Felassan fell back. The tightness in his chest eased and the world spun a little. It had been a drain of using too much power at once. That was all it was. The herbs had snapped Fen'Harel back.

"Master, what happened? Are you all right? Were you injured?" Felassan asked.

Fen'Harel didn't reply. The God forced himself up and turned his gaze on the eluvian. Pain twisted his normally impassive features. His eyes glittered with tears; yet, no tears came. It was as if he was crying and not all at once.

"Master?" Felassan reached out for Fen'Harel.

Fen'Harel turned and looked at Felassan as if he wasn't seeing him at all. There was a hollowness in his eyes. A chill raced through Felassan. He felt as he if wasn't staring at Fen'Harel but rather into the face of a beaten and broken slave.

Then his master looked away from Felassan and reached towards the foci. His hand trembled over the orb. Then he lowered his hand and stood.

"Master," – Felassan scrambled to his feet – "what's wrong?"

Fen'Harel paused, but didn't speak before he moved away from Felassan. Felassan hurried after Fen'Harel, something was telling him to not leave Fen'Harel alone. Whatever had happened it had shattered Fen'Harel as nothing less could have.

The God had stopped in the hall and was leaning against the wall. His eyes unfocused. It looked as if he would fall at any moment.

Felassan rushed to his master's side. "Let's get you to your chambers." Whatever had happened was ripping apart Fen'Harel, Felassan could see it as surely as he had seen the whips doing the same to his fellow slaves his entire life. But Fen'Harel wasn't a slave, he had never been a slave, and whatever had started to destroy him wasn't physical like a whip.

Careful of his master's state, Felassan pulled his master's arm over his shoulders and helped the tall God down the hall to his chambers. When they entered, Felassan expected his master to snap out of this and say to leave him, but the god kept staring at the ground as if nothing around him was what he could see. It was as if he wasn't even here anymore.

Felassan eased Fen'Harel down onto the bed and turned to the tools hidden in a drawer near the bed. He pulled out the mixing bowls and fresher herbs than what he had given Fen'Harel earlier. Something for shock should help here, Felassan decided with a small frown. But what had caused his master to fall into a state of shock like this? This just wasn't like Fen'Harel at all.

*~ The Past ~*

The scent of the fire had faded into the soft smell of wet grasses and trees. A soft drizzle had started, making it all the harder to follow the god through into the night. The rain dripped from the leaves to the ground and onto Felassan's head.

He shivered and tugged at his tattered clothes. With each passing minute the night was getting colder and colder. A part of him now wished he had remained back with the others. At least with them he would have been warm. Well, warmer than he was right now.

Pain lanced through his toes. He staggered, only just catching himself on a tree. "_Fenehis_," he spat the curse. "I can't even see two inches in front of me." He grumbled and sank to the muddy ground. He thumb rubbed his sore toes, trying to knead out the pain.

So much for this being a good idea. What had he been thinking following a _God_ into the woods at night? Felassan felt laughter start to bubble up in him. It spilled out like an overflowing glass and soon he was clutching his stomach as he leaned against a tree, laughing.

"I fail to see what's so funny," stated a cool voice through the darkness.

Felassan jumped. "W-what?"

A small fire erupted into life, hovering just around the waist level for a tall elf. Felassan moved his gaze from the fire to the hand holding it, then slowly he looked up into the face of the mage. His breath caught.

"Fen'Harel." Felassan lowered his head and bowed to the god. "I beg of you, let me serve you." Felassan pressed his forehead into the ground.

Wood tapped again the wet earth. "You needn't bow to me, _da'len_."

Felassan bit his lip. It wasn't right, he was a slave and Fen'Harel a god. The only ones who should look into the face of a god were the high born and the servants of the god. The only ones who touched the gods were the high priests and those few they took as a lover time and time again.

"Rise, _da'len_, you're not a slave anymore." A hand touched Felassan's shoulder.

Felassan jumped back, recoiling as if Fen'Harel's touch had been fire against his bare skin. A god shouldn't touch one as low born as Felassan. "Y-you shouldn't touch me," Felassan muttered.

A soft laugh at this. "Who says such ridicules things as that? Are you of the People, _da'len_?"

"Ah." Felassan muttered. He tried to go back into the bow. But found a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Then, why think yourself less than I?"

The words caught Felassan by surprise. His head jerked up and he found himself staring into Fen'Harel's eyes. A shiver raced through him which wasn't caused by the rain. Fear, prickled over his skin and settled deep in his belly. The power was real, the knowledge and year reflected in Fen'Harel's eyes unmatched by all but Elgar'nan himself. The god had to have been ancient before the empire had even been a thought.

"Because I am," Felassan whispered and forced himself to look away from Fen'Harel. "You're a god and I—" he cut off and took a deep breath. If he wanted to serve this god to help him find his mother, then he had to figure out the right words to say and this wasn't working. "Please, Honorable Fen'Harel, let me serve you," he bowed his head, unable to return to the full bow he had been in before thanks to the god's hand.

"Honorable?" Fen'Harel's eyebrows rose at this. He then sighed. "_Da'len_," he started, "you only just got your freedom. You shouldn't be so eager to give it up again." Fen'Harel took something from the bag he carried.

With a nimbleness Felassan had never seen, Fen'Harel placed the long cloth over Felassan with only one hand and clasped it. At once Felassan felt warmer. He reached up and touched the cloak. The material was thick and tightly woven. It had to have had cost a small fortune alone.

Felassan made to take it off, but a hand over his stopped him. "I shouldn't," he muttered. Then he swallowed and looked up at Fen'Harel once more. "Please, let me serve you," he spoke in calm tones as he looked into Fen'Harel's narrow features. "I want to work as a priest or a servant. If not to pay you back for all you've done then just because I respect you."

A frown creased Fen'Harel's lip, furrowing his brow. "You don't know me," he stated. "And once you make such vows, the only way out of them is death."

Felassan stared up at the god, silently pleading with him to say "yes." Even if it meant he would never be able to search for his mother, he wanted this with all his heart. More than he had ever wanted anything else in his life.

"I know you're kind," Felassan stated, his rough fingers ran over the thick cloak that Fen'Harel had placed over him. "And that you're the god who listened and answered our prayers. That you asked for no offering in return for it."

A small breath escaped Fen'Harel. "Very well," he conceded. "But think on it for a little longer, _da'len_. You're too young to make such a commitment in one night." Fen'Harel stood as he placed his staff on his back. He held out his free hand to Felassan. "For tonight, shelter and rest are needed."

Felassan couldn't stop himself from smiling as he took the god's offered hand. There was no way he was going to change his mind. Even if the next day he saw a clue to where his mother was or the day after that or after that. This, it felt right. As if it was what he was meant to do with his life.

*~ X ~*

Felassan finished mixing the potions and turned back to his master. The look of hallow shock hadn't left Fen'Harel's pale gaze. Perhaps Fen'Harel had been right, and Felassan really did know nothing about the man he served. All he did know was that Fen'Harel was driven and would what was needed for the People or so he had gathered.

"Master," – Felassan knelt down before Fen'Harel and placed the cup into his master's hand – "drink this, it'll help."

The cup slipped from Fen'Harel's hand and clattered to the floor. Green liquid spilled out over the beautiful carpet. The liquid trickled through the thick, soft carpet, spreading out like a blood stain.

Without a word, Felassan bent down and picked up the cup before he started to clean out the carpet. He hoped it wouldn't actually stain, but it looked like it just might. A small breath escaped him as he slowed in his attempt to stop the spread of the liquid.

"I," Fen'Harel's voice cracked over him, "I betrayed them," he whispered.

Felassan stopped, his eyes still locked on the carpet. What was his master saying?

"They won't listen. None of them believed and none of them could see the threat Andruil posed," his voice was weak as he spoke almost as he wasn't meaning to speak at all. "It was the only way to save them," his voice was softer now, "and the only way to stop the wars."

"Master?" Felassan looked up at Fen'Harel, but Fen'Harel wasn't looking at him. His shoulders were hunched against whatever pain was filling him. "What of Andruil?" Felassan whispered the question. "Was she with the others?"

Fen'Harel gave the slightest shake of his head.

"If there was no other way," Felassan started. "Then, you did what you had to in order to keep your family safe." If Felassan had been able to anything for his mother when they had been split he knew he would have. Heck, if he could have killed the slavers he would have. Nothing was too great of a price if it meant protecting those one loved, right?

Fen'Harel bowed his head. "I doubt any of them will ever see it that way. Or any of the people," he whispered.

"Master," Felassan started, but stopped. The way his master had been since leaving pointed to the fact he wanted to be with the others. So, then, why wasn't he? "You wanted to seal yourself with them, didn't you?" Felassan wasn't certain his master could hear the question.

Fen'Harel gave the slightest of nods.

The gesture made ice form in Felassan's stomach. He stared at his master. The horror in him wasn't over what his master had done, but over the fact that his master didn't want a life without those he loved. This meant, more than anything else, it was unlikely Fen'Harel would drink any of the potions Felassan made him.

Fen'Harel moved so he was laying down on the bed.

"Master."

"I'm tired, leave me, please."

The ice in his stomach grew. It made Felassan feel almost sick as he watched his as he watched his master drift off into sleep. A sleep which had started before Felassan had even helped his master back here.

Given all that had happened, would Fen'Harel even wish to wake and leave the Fade? There would be nothing left for the god here in the waking world. Nothing but the pain and the reminder of what he had done. Yet, Felassan feared if his master didn't wake for this sleep. He feared for the People and what would become of them if Fen'Harel wasn't there to stand again Andruil.

"I trust you," he whispered. Felassan sat down in the chair in the room, his eyes locked on his master. "And I won't leave your side until you awaken, Master. Take the time you need to recover."

Yes, he trusted his master. In the end Fen'Harel would never allow harm to come to the People. It wasn't in the god's nature to just stand by and do nothing while those around him suffered.

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**(Author's Note: **Another short chapter, sorry.

I am also slowly, _very _slowly, working on the cover for this story. The pencil work is up on DeviantArt (there is a link to my DeviantArt on my profile page). But it will be awhile before the coloring is done and most of the pencil work is really just detailed outlining unlike most of my more resent pictures… yeah.

**Last note: I am finding weekly updates are getting harder and harder to keep up with, thus, I am not updating weekly anymore. I just can't do it**.**) **


	16. Chapter 15: Solas

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 15: Solas

The familiar sight of the green tinged Fade appeared around Fen'Harel. He didn't move from the spot he stood, rather just stared out over the landscape towards the Golden City. His mind was locked on the last time he had been there and the fight which had broken out with Elgar'nan.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry it ended this way." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Even if he looked for the others here, he knew he wouldn't be able to find them. The realm they were sealed in was cut off from all others including the Fade. They would be trapped for all eternity without dreams. His heart twisted with this thought.

What had he done? His legs buckled and he collapsed to the ground, ears ringing and heart screaming to shed tears which wouldn't come. Nothing was left. No one was left. Not even the promise he had made to Dirthamen seemed important in this moment. What was the point of protecting the People? What was the point to any of it anymore?

He was alone, completely and utterly alone. As he had been before meeting Elgar'nan and Mythal for the first time. As he would be until the day he could figure out how to end the life of one such as him. He would die alone.

The thought twisted his heart further. His heartrate increased and breathing quickened. It was a fate he had thought he would never fall too after meeting the others. After learning he had a place in the world, a family. Now, now, he knew he would die alone. That he was always meant to be alone in the world and in the Fade.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to change to a wolf and howl out all the pain, fear, and sorrow twisting and churning inside of him. He couldn't. All he could do was sit there and stare up towards the Golden City.

"Alone," he whispered. "Alone," the word tugged at his closing throat. His eyes burned with tears that wouldn't fall. Why couldn't he cry? Here, in the Fade, he wouldn't be crying before anyone, even the boy.

"You're not alone," a soft voice whispered. Thin, wispy arms wrapped around Fen'Harel's shoulders.

There was a warmth in the embrace. Some of the pain in him eased back. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth wash over him. He heard more than saw other spirits moving in around him. Lights pressed against his eyelids: white, pink, blue, grays, and more.

"You're never alone here, Solas," Wisdom whispered to him. "We'll always be here for you, for all of eternity."

"The pain twists and deepens, ripping deeper and deeper into your soul," Compassion whispered nearby. The spirit's hand touched Fen'Harel's wrist. The feeling of his touch was just as warm and comforting as Wisdom's embrace. "The pain won't last forever," Compassion told him. "You did what you had to so they would be safe."

"You loved them," a soft voice spoke from his other side. "A love deeper than any bound of blood could have made. The only love which matched that you had for your family was your love for the People." This spirit shifted and rested her head on his lap. "We are here, always, _ma falon_."

Fen'Harel kept his eye closed. The words of his closest spirit friends washed over him with the feeling of them embracing him. He didn't want to move or open his eyes. A part of him almost feared they would vanish if he did.

"We won't go," Compassion told him.

A small smile flickered at the corners of his lips before vanishing. They were here for him and yet, he knew he didn't deserve this. This companionship and friendship, not after what he had done to his family. He had hurt them, hidden them away in a place which would keep them safe; yet, torment them for an eternity without dreams, hope; faith. It was as if they no longer existed and he had done this to them.

"You've given them a future," Wisdom told him. "You and Dirthamen, together, saved all of them."

"There is always hope," another spirit soothed. "The seal won't last forever. They will be free again."

What he had done, the pain he had caused was unforgivable.

"But they are hurting," Compassion read Fen'Harel's thoughts. "That's not true," he told Fen'Harel. "They will forgive you."

Fen'Harel opened his eyes to the glowing eyes of Hope staring back at him. Spirit of Love and Compassion rested on either side of him while Wisdom held him. All of them were here. He closed his eyes once more, letting himself fall through their embrace and comfort of memory.

*~ The Past ~*

A chill clung to Fen'Harel's skin. Cold stone scraped against the top of his feet. A ringing pierced through his ears. His vision was blurred, rimmed with the colors of the Fade.

"Quickly!" Elgar'nan's voice was distant, sounding as if it were spoken through a great tunnel. "Boys, get Fen'Harel here, quickly," Elgar'nan snapped.

Darkness rimmed his vision before the images buckled. The next thing Fen'Harel was aware of were soft furs against the tips of his fingers. Then the pressure of stone pressing through the furs into his back.

Cool water trickled down his forehead.

Fen'harel shifted. Sharp pain jabbed through his ribs and stomach. Air fled his lips in a short, pained breath.

"Careful."

The soft sound of Sylaise's voice made Fen'Harel open his eyes a slit. The straight walls and flickering light of the room told him they had returned to the safety of the underground hold deep in the Frostback Mountains. There was more warmth in the room than normal. He blinked, trying to focus passed the thick layer of foggy pain he felt.

"Your wounds are great."

Fen'Harel turned his head to see the young woman bent over him. She held a cloth covered in red and black splotches. His blood, corrupted and normal. The water ran off the cloth into one of the bowls by the healer. He watched it. The small waterfall of corruption flowing from it.

"How long?" his voice cracked a little.

"You were out for over a month," she told him, dipping her hand into a poultice. "I've managed to get out most of the corrupted blood and sleep has done the rest. But their blades went deep this time, Fen'Harel. You're extremely lucky no vitals were hit."

He gave a choked, pained laugh. "Lucky?" he rasped. It sure didn't feel that way.

"Yes, _lucky_," she stressed the word with a glare.

Fen'Harel shifted. The movement sent pain coursing through his stiff body. He forced back a groan.

_Thump_ – he winced as Sylaise wrapped him lightly on the head. "Don't move, you idiot." She glared at him, her normally soft eyes sharp. "You're going to undo all my hard work at healing your wounds."

"Sorry," he gave a half-hearted apology.

Sylaise shook her head and returned to the poultices she'd made. "I wish it was easier to gather herbs this high up," she muttered more to herself than to Fen'Harel.

He closed his eyes, trying not to move as Sylaise continued to tend his wounds. The last battle had been long and bloody. He suspected that Elgar'nan hadn't been pleased to force a retreat when Fen'Harel had been injured. But battling in the gods' realm held its own risks as well. The realm was corrupt, dark, and tainted. The very air was foul. Each breath drawn pulled on his senses and tricked his mind. Then there was the music which came after too long there. The haunting melody twisted deep into his soul and enticed him to stay longer.

Fen'Harel forced himself to open his eyes again. He didn't want to dwell on the Void any longer than he had to. It was bad enough having to fight there from time to time when they pushed far enough through the gods' forces.

Over him, Sylaise was spreading a new poultice over one of his wounds. Out of all of the group Sylaise was the most talented at healing magic. In fact her gift seemed to lie within healing. It felt as if she could feel the pain deep within someone, both the mental and the physical. Then she could mix herbs found with an ease unmatched.

It seemed that with each new member they found, Fen'Harel learned more about what they were… and what they weren't. As it had turned out, the only thing they had in common with the elvhen was how they looked and biology. Unlike the People, none of them could die. Mortal wounds seemed to only mean they would fall into a deep slumber; yet, all of them still avoided such wounds, fearing how long it might take them to recover.

At some point Fen'Harel drifted back into sleep. This time he found himself within the Fade rather than deep within the swirling pain he had been the last time. When he next woke it was to find that Sylaise had gone.

Fen'Harel pushed himself into a sitting position, strands of his dark hair fell around his face with the movement. There was little pain this time. He stretched, testing how tender the wounds were. The skin pulled with little pain and the bandages held well. Sylaise had done a great job at speeding up the healing process.

He pulled himself to his feet, wincing from the movement. His room wasn't large, a feeling more apparent by the number of books stacked throughout the space. Most of the books were his own, holding notes he had gathered on both the Void and the Fade as well as the corruption the Void and gods seemed to cause.

Careful of the books, Fen'Harel wove his way through the room to the hall. A yelp sounded when he opened the door. The next moment he saw Andruil standing to one side, holding a pot close to her chest.

"Fen'Harel!" Her large, brown flickered to him then away, a small blush on her colored her cheeks.

"Where's Elgar'nan?" Fen'Harel asked her in way of greeting.

Her sun browned skin showed signs of a resent fight pointing to the fact she had most likely just returned from either a hunt for the gods or for food. She tuck a strand of her brown hair behind one pointed ear, eyes moving with an almost nervous flicker to them.

Fen'Harel frowned. "Is something wrong?" he asked the young girl.

"I, umm, I wanted to thank you for saving me and Falon'Din in the last battle," she muttered. More heat crept into her face until most of her face seemed red with the blush.

"Think nothing of it," Fen'Harel told her. "Do you know where Elgar'nan is?" he repeated the question.

Andruil nodded. "With Mythal, in the main room," she told him.

"_Ma serannas_." Fen'Harel nodded to the girl before he strode passed her. His tattered and battle worn robes whipped out behind him, hair hitting his back with the speed he walked. It was as fast a pace he dared to go with his body still injured.

"Fen'Harel!" Andruil raced to catch up with him. "Would you, umm, would you," – her voice faltered when he looked at her – "like to join me for, umm, dinner?" by the end of the question her voice was barely more than a whisper and she was clutching the pot all the more tightly too her. Almost as if it were her last weapon on a field surrounded by the gods' forces.

He frowned. Perhaps he should think more on what she was trying to say, but right then they needed to focus on gods and defeating them, not dinner. "Later," he told her as he turned into the main room. "Elgar'nan!" he called, barely noticing that Andruil hadn't followed him into the room.

The room was empty apart from Elgar'nan. The older elf looked up from the maps he'd been going over. His fiery eyes locked onto Fen'Harel and narrowed.

"You shouldn't be out of bed yet," his voice was stern.

"Is that worry I hear?" Fen'Harel asked in cool tones with a small smirk on his lips. He straightened his features and walked over to Elgar'nan. He only glanced at the map. "We both know the longer I am out of the battle, the worse it is for our group. Where do you need me?" he asked, skipping straight to the point.

Elgar'nan hesitated, his eyes flickered down to the blood which still stained Fen'Harel's robes. Then a small sigh escaped. "You're right, we do need you back on the field."

"What?!" Andruil shouted as she raced into the room, still holding the pot. "But Elgar'nan, Sylaise said he needed another week to recover!"

A small snort escaped Fen'Harel. "And while I take that week to sleep and recover, what little we've struggled to gain from the gods could slip through our fingers. I'm ready to fight!"

"No you're not!" there was a sternness to a soft voice.

Fen'Harel glanced at the door only long enough to notice that Sylaise had entered, carrying her supplies. Her gaze was stern as she looked at Fen'Harel.

Then she turned to Elgar'nan, gaze steady as she faced their leader. "Elgar'nan, I know Fen'Harel is one of our best fighters, but allow him to remain here."

Fen'Harel glared at her. "I don't need to be coddled," he snapped. "I've fought while badly injured before and can do it again!"

Sylaise turned her calm gaze on him. "I'm not denying your skill with magic, Fen'Harel, but you've other talents that can be far more helpful while you're injured. Instead of rushing in blind with a limp, why not plan our next moves?"

The words lashed at him like a whip. It took a lot not wince at her saying "limp." Instead he looked towards Elgar'nan, holding his breath. In the past their leader would have laughed and stated that no matter the injury they could fight through the pain and push back against the gods. After all none of them could really die.

Instead of him doing this, his eyes were glazed with thought as he looked at Sylaise. Then he nodded and turned to Fen'Harel. "She's right."

"What?!" Fen'Harel felt his lips curl into a snarl.

"I need someone to remain here, as it is, to plan. If you do this then it will mean I can return to the front with Andruil. Sylaise can stay here with you and tend to both you and whoever returns injured. We've lost a lot of ground with the four of us being away from the fighting for so long."

It was odd to see Elgar'nan so calm and level headed. Fen'Harel found himself gaping at the older elf. This was just too strange.

"I know you will be able to find the gods' weakness, Fen'Harel, you just need time to think on it and to recover."

Fen'Harel's shock melted into a scowl. Then he sighed, letting out all his frustration in that breath. "Very well," he muttered, "but the moment I am healed, I'm rejoining you and the others."

"But not a moment sooner," Sylaise told him with a smile, "and don't think I won't be able to tell when that moment sooner will be." Her eyes glittered with amusement. "I'm not so easily tricked," she teased him.

This made Elgar'nan's normally stern features twitch into a soft smile. His eyes sparked with an emotion other than rage for the first time in centuries. It was nice to see some other emotion reflected in Elgar'nan's eyes.

Fen'Harel nodded. "Wouldn't dream of it, healer." He gave a short, almost pained bow to Sylaise.

*~ X ~*

The trust, the love; all their family had been, torn apart just like that. There hadn't been such a warm or fond moment in many, _many_ centuries. They had ripped one another apart, fighting, lying; deceiving until it was almost impossible to remember how close all of them had been. Yet, Fen'Harel knew what he had done to his family was far, _far_ worse than anything they had done over the past sixty centuries. Why couldn't it have stayed that way? With them caring more about one another than their own power base?

Then, there was the fact that if most of them were trapped, all of them should be. Fen'Harel had no right to have left them there, sealed. Not without sealing himself with them. What right did he have to be free while the others were trapped, suffering because of what he had done?

"That's enough!"

A sharp, booming voice pierced through Fen'Harel's thoughts. He looked up to see Purpose towering over all of them. The spirit's eyes were sharp and ablaze with the power of emotions and the Fade.

"Get up!" Purpose barked at Fen'Harel.

Fen'Harel stared at the spirit, not certain he had heard correctly.

"Get up!"

Fen'Harel pulled himself to his feet, too stunned to do anything else. The others followed Fen'harel up, each looking at Purpose, but none of them speaking out against the other spirit as if they knew what Purpose was planning or were just curious to see.

"You still have a reason, a _purpose_ in life," the Spirit of Purpose told him with a sharp look. The grey form of the spirit glared up into Fen'Harel's eyes. "One that is more than worthy for you to fight for!"

A part of Fen'Harel knew exactly where this was going. It had to do with the promise he had made Dirthamen. But why did it matter? They had failed in all of it. He couldn't do alone what all of them had done together, could he?

"You must fight for the People, protect their freedom as best you can. It is what you've always embodied: the _pride_ in the _freedom_ of choice!" Purpose declared.

Love moved up so she was before him. Her soft hand rested on his chest over his heart. "Your heart will always love the People no matter the centuries that pass." Her voice softened with her next words, "Or how they may come to view you. It is the very core of who you are."

The light of Hope moved in closer. The soft voice of the spirit brushed against his ear, "In the darkest of hours you are the beckon of hope for the People. You are the one who can always show them how to stand tall and fight back for all the freedom which is torn from them. You will always shine with all the hopes and dreams of the People."

"They will surfer, beaten, broken, battered; bruised, no longer able to fight," Compassion started. "You must always be the reminder that nothing can tear them down. It is you who must fight and stop Andruil from breaking the People completely."

All but Wisdom spoke at once, "You must stop Andruil!"

Fen'Harel turned to Wisdom. She had been watching, her head tilted to one side. Now she moved forward and wrapped he arms around his neck in an embrace. "You are Solas!" was all she said.

Solas.

Fen'Harel closed his eyes, letting the name wash over him. For the first time that name felt right. Almost as if this was the name he was supposed to carry rather than Fen'Harel. To be Pride rather than the Rebel Wolf. And to stand for something once more.

Deep down he knew that whatever happened next, he couldn't face it as a "god." Rather as he had faced all the battles with Forgotten, even if he was to do this battle alone. The time of them being gods had long since passed. Fen'Harel would no longer be, just like the others. Yes, from this day on he could be just Solas.

* * *

Elven phrases used:

_Ma serannas _– Thank you or My thanks

* * *

**(Author's Note: **I can't remember the exact quote, but know when talking with Solas he would tell the Inquisitor that spirits would comfort him and thus that is the idea behind this chapter. I imagine that the sealing of the other gods was one of the darkest moments in Fen'Harel's life and it would take all the friendships he has to get him through that moment and steer him back to the path which is needed to stop Andruil and save the People.

Also, whenever I write Compassion, I hear Cole's voice through him/ it. It's kind of creepy because I doubt it's the same Spirit of Compassion.

Another matter: Yes, I do have Solas having hair in the flashbacks. I'm not sure where I will tie in the story of how he loses his hair, but there will be background there somewhere either in this book or the one following for the flashback sequence there.

Added note: This is more for me so that I know which chapters I've edited and which I haven't. On some I am just removing the author's note but this one is a little too important to remove.**) **


	17. Chapter 16: Barren Land

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 16: Barren Land

A soft sound floated down through his dreams to Felassan. He stirred, pulling a face at the stiffness of his body. He couldn't figure out why he felt so stiff. Then, the memory of the night before trickled down to Felassan.

His eyes snapped open. One candle flickered near the bed. Its light fell over the empty, soft furs and sheets. Felassan leapt to his feet and glanced around the room. His eyes locked onto a silhouette moving near the back of the room.

"Master?" Felassan asked, heart hammering with unease. The last time he had seen his master, he had been broken and defeated. It was a relief to see him standing, but Felassan didn't have a clue what his master was doing in the back of the room… in the dark.

The shadow straightened and turned. Light caught Fen'Harel's pale eyes, making them flash through the darkness as a wolf's gaze would when the moon shown on them. There was no sign of the sorrow or hollowness which had befallen his master the other day.

A small breath escaped Felassan and he took a step forward. "Do you need help with anything?" he asked, his relief more than apparent in his voice even to him.

"No, _da'len_." Fen'Harel turned back to whatever he was doing.

"I can call someone to bring you food, master," Felassan stated.

"I've eaten." The reply was curt and tone a little sharp. "Go back to sleep, _da'len_. I didn't mean to wake you."

At once Felassan knew something was wrong. Whether it was the voices of the past high priests or just everything else that had happened over the past several weeks, he knew this feeling was right.

He moved towards his master. The closer Felassan drew to the shadows, the more he could see of what his master was doing. The Foci had been recovered and now gave off a soft pulse of power. There was more around the orb. It looked as if his master was packing for a long journey. Most of it was wrapped food, some wooden plates, and a mug. An open pack was set to one side of all of this.

Then there was what Fen'Harel was wearing. Since the time Felassan had met the god, he worn nice robes decorated to make him appear as a noble of Fen'Harel or Fen'Harel himself. Now, instead, he wore thick, stitched robes that looked like they belonged to a slave or a commoner who traveled too much. They were most defiantly not the clothes a god should be wearing.

"Master, what's going on?" Felassan's voice shook with the shock and horror filling him. The ice had returned to pit of his stomach.

Fen'Harel paused in packing, his hand rested on some of the supplies. "I'm leaving," he stated in even tones. "To stop Andruil and right all we've done to the People."

Felassan stared at his master not certain he had heard correctly. "All you've done? Master, all of the creators, including you, are the reason the People are where they're at today: free of the Forgotten, and with all the knowledge that we have now."

The words made Fen'Harel bow his head. "It wasn't right of us," he spoke in soft tones, "to take the place of the Forgotten as the gods to the People when we're not gods."

The ice grew in size. Felassan felt sick and numb with horror. While his master had woken, it wasn't the master he had vowed to serve, the god he respected above all others. It wasn't right. All of this made Felassan want to scream and cry, but he kept his mouth shut and eyes dry. Adding his emotions to this wouldn't help his master now.

"All of you will _always_ be our gods," Felassan told Fen'Harel, his voice somehow steady.

The only reply Felassan got to this was Fen'Harel packing the Foci into the bag followed by the rest of the supplies. Without a word, the god slung the bag over his shoulders and turned.

"If you're leaving," – Felassan straightened and forced himself to hold his head high – "then I'm coming with you."

Felassan expected a small smile to flicker across his master's face or a flicker of anger, but there was nothing. His features remained impassive as he looked down at Felassan.

"I must do this alone," Fen'Harel stated before he moved passed Felassan and started towards the door.

Alone? The word rang in Felassan's ears. Without thinking, he turned and raced after Fen'Harel. "You're not going alone!" he shouted, catching up to the god and trying to match his longer, faster stride.

A small breath escaped Fen'Harel. "You can come _if_ you don't keep shouting." He kept walking at the fast pace. A pace which Felassan realized was being set so none of the sentinels had time to notice Fen'Harel was leaving.

Felassan squeezed his lips shut and nodded as the only reply. He tried to keep pace with his master, eyes flickering nervously over the halls. There wasn't a sign of anyone at all. The two of them stepped out into the cool night. The soft, silver glow of the moon fell over Felassan and made his breath catch as the light played across the crystal formations surrounding the temple.

The temple itself rested in a cliff which was well hidden in the desert of the northwestern part of Elvhenan. Food must have been brought in through the eluvians by the sentinels. This meant that it was unlikely many pilgrims came to Fen'Harel's main temple, but Felassan did know of other temples dedicated to the god spread across all of the Elvhenan.

The sight was stunning; yet, if Felassan knew anything about this part of the world, it was that only the bravest souls dared to cross it.

"Master, why here?" he whispered the question.

"The veil is thin here," was all Fen'Harel said in reply. The god started down the path which led out of the crystal lined cave. "We travel at night and find shelter during the day," he stated, "keep moving."

"Wait!" a voice sounded and the next moment one of the sentinels raced from the hidden temple doors. She paused, breathing hard. "We're coming with you, Master," she declared looking down the path at Fen'Harel. She didn't seem upset over what the god was wearing or anything. Her gaze was calm as she looked at him.

"No." Fen'Harel rejected the idea.

"You don't get a say," the woman said as she straightened. She shifted the pack she wore. "My daughter and I are coming with you. This time I refuse to let you leave alone," – she glanced at Felassan – "well, _nearly_ alone." Her hand rested on the sword attached at her hip.

The small girl from the first day Felassan had come to the temple appeared and took hold of the woman's leg. Her blue eyes were wide as she stared at Felassan and Fen'Harel. There was another pack on her back. But unlike her mother she didn't carry a weapon.

Fen'Harel didn't speak, only continued to look up at the woman. Any other time Felassan would have been read some emotion or another on the god's face but not now. His expression remained unreadable.

"The others are going to sleep," the woman told Fen'Harel. "They knew you planned the leave from the moment we saw your eluvian had been sealed. But Atisha is too young to enter such a dangerous state. They will protect the temple from all who seek to disturb it. But I beg of you, Master, please let my daughter and I come with you."

Fen'Harel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Very well, on the condition all of you stop calling me 'master' and 'Fen'Harel.'"

"What are we to call you then?" Felassan asked while the woman visibly relaxed at his words.

Fen'Harel turned back to the path and started off once more. "Solas."

*~ X ~*

Solas led the small group out of the cave and into the barren wasteland. His plan to leave unnoticed hadn't gone that well, but a part of him wasn't too disappointed in this. The boy wouldn't have liked not coming along and Etha, mother of Atisha, was right. Her daughter was far too young for the long sleep the sentinels of the main temples entered when the god left for extended periods of time.

"I'm Etha," – the voices of the others floated up to Solas – "there hadn't been time for an introduction before now, for which I'm sorry."

"It's nice to meet you. I could carry your bag," he stated.

Etha laughed. "I am more than fine. If you should carry anyone's bag it would be—" she cut off and Solas could feel her eyes boring into his back.

The night wore on with little passing between the group. Solas led them over the familiar landscape towards the closest town which would rest at the very edge of the barren land. It would take them a good three days to reach it without the aid of mounts.

A soft wind made a shiver race through Solas. Dust twisted up and around his feet. When the sun rose, a dust storm would be fully upon them, but, for now, the breeze was all they had to worry about.

"It hurts," a small voice complained.

Solas paused and glanced behind him at the little girl. One of her small hands clutched her mother's while the other rubbed the dust which blew into her eyes.

"Come now, _da'len_," Etha told the girl, "it's not too bad."

The girl just nodded and tried to keep one hand over her eyes. But it was slowing the two of them. Solas stopped completely and turned. Without a word he took off his pack and held it out to Felassan.

"What?" the boy looked startled before he quickly took the pack. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Solas moved over to the girl. He knelt before Etha and little Atisha. "I can carry you," he stated with a soft smile at Atisha. "That way the sand doesn't get into your eyes."

"Master?" Etha gasped a little at this. "You don't need to worry about us," she quickly said as she knelt down beside him and Atisha.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. It took a lot of effort not to say something about her calling him "master" again. "I used to carry Falon'Din, it shouldn't be any different." He turned and held out his hands.

The girl paused and looked at her mother. Her eyes were sleepy and red from the dust.

Etha bit her lip before she reluctantly nodded. With her mother's approval Atisha clambered up onto Solas's back. The small girl curled up a little on Solas's back as he stood, holding her legs.

Soon Solas heard the girl's breathing deepened as she fell asleep against his back. Even with the weight of the girl, he kept them going at an even pace to get to a small tower placed for those few elvhen who made the trip to the temple. There were three such towers placed for those who traveled on foot to the temple.

The dust picked up as day approached. "A storm will be upon us soon," he told the others.

"Is there shelter close by?" Felassan asked, stumbling a little as he tried to match Solas's longer stride.

"The towers," Etha replied in Solas's stead. "A few sentinels head out of them every few years to make certain they still stand. The first isn't far from here." She pointed to where a small silhouette could be seen rising in the distance.

"What are they for?" Felassan asked over the wind.

"Pilgrims, for the most part." The older sentinel was struggling against the wind. Her eyes narrowed as the dust whipped at their faces. "There's no other way to get to the temple unless you are bound to the service of the gods." She stopped speaking then as the wind picked up, howling around them until the dust was as knives against their skin.

The sun was hidden behind a wall of sand by the time they straggled into the first tower. Atisha had woken and buried her face in Solas's back to keep the sand from her ears and eyes.

Once inside, Solas knelt down and the little girl slid off his back. Felassan was looking around the tower with wide eyes while Etha set down her pack. Felassan vanished up the stairs, one hand resting on the hilt of his dagger as if he expected danger.

"There won't be anyone here!" Etha called after the boy. Her voice echoed off the walls of the plain tower.

For its purpose the tower was steady and strong, built to withstand even the harshest of sand storms that plagued this part of the world. No riches adorned this tower, only a shrine and a few supplies were ever here, but the supplies were more a fresh supply of water and a few blankets for the cold nights. Out of all the towers, this one was the plainest, standing too deep into the wasteland for much to be done with it.

Solas settled himself on the cold ground and listened to the storm raging outside. He could remember the first time he had crossed this land with Mythal and June. It had been back during the war with the Forgotten. While the land was inhospitable, the ores here were rich and June had been excited by them, saying they could be crafted into wonders the likes which had never been seen before.

Sorrow stabbed at Solas at the memory. Nothing had excited June in such away for many, many centuries. Now, nothing ever would be able to again. He was locked away with the others, suffering because Solas had wanted to keep all of them from Andruil's grasping fingers.

The pain of the sorrow ripped deeper into him. Solas closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. Wind howled against stone in such force he could feel the beat of the storm through the wall.

"Could we get a small fire going to cook?" Felassan's voice drifted to Solas sometime later. He hadn't heard the boy return.

"Not in the confines of the tower," Etha stated. The sound of her going through her pack came to him. "But I brought a few fruits with us for the trip across the wasteland. Atisha!" she suddenly snapped the name.

Solas cracked open eye to see the girl come down from the statue of him she'd been climbing. A small flicker of amusement passed through him, contrasting against the pain and sorrow. The girl's expression was one of disappointment.

"But I wanted to see what it looked like atop, _mamae_," she pouted.

"I told you to never climb the statues, here is no different than at the temple." Etha looked down at her daughter, eyes flashing with her anger. She glanced at Solas with an uneasy look now in her eyes. "I apologize," she whispered with a bow of her head. "Atisha, say you're sorry."

Solas opened his eyes all the way and straightened. "It's only a statue," he stated. He closed his eyes again.

At some point he drifted into an uneasy sleep. It was hard to grasp onto the Fade this time, he kept waking with the thoughts taunting him of the time long ago when he and the others had stood united. Each time he closed his eyes, his mind was plagued with the images of the others falling into sleep, Elgar'nan's anger, and Dirthamen pleading for him to place them both into the sleep while he struggled against his father. Or by the memories of better times.

Soon Solas gave up on sleep and watched the other three. Felassan tossed in his dreams, muttering under his breath as if something was grabbing hold of him. If Solas had been able to sleep, he might have been able to help the boy. As a dreamer, there was much Felassan could do and yet with such little training he was at risk.

Etha stood guard near the entrance. Her sharp eyes locked onto him when Solas shifted and stood. "Couldn't sleep," – she hesitated – "Solas?"

"No," he admitted and moved over to the door. He knew better than to tell her to get rest. It wasn't in the nature of a sentinel to disobey him but in the same instance it wasn't in their nature to let him stand guard either. Bound for all eternity to his will.

The thought made a shiver of guilt race through him. What right had he to do such a thing to all these people? Even little Atisha was bound to him for both her parents had been. If he could take back anything from his youth it would have been being so stupid as to have believed he could play god like the Forgotten had.

"Did you ever want children?" Etha's question jolted Solas from his thoughts. He hadn't realized until that moment he'd been staring at Atisha. "You were good with her last night," the woman confessed. "And there are stories from when Dirthamen and Falon'Din were young that you cared more for them more than their blood father."

Solas bowed his head. "They were—" he cut off and took a deep breath. "If having a child were possible then yes, I had considered it once, long ago. But the woman who could love one such as I and I could return such feelings to has yet to be found," he confessed. And after all he had done, such love was something he never deserved.

A small laugh came from Etha. "Not possible? Have you ever tried to have a child?"

He looked at her and she flushed.

"I'm sorry, that was out of line."

"No, it's fine," Solas didn't smile but a part of him was glad she had asked. "I would rather not be treated as Fen'Harel anymore," he confessed. He returned his gaze to Atisha.

Had he tried to have a child? No, but that didn't mean it couldn't have happened with the women he had been with over the long centuries of his life. It never had and thus he doubted children were possible. Perhaps the fact that Falon'Din and Dirthamen had been born in the first place had been only because Elgar'nan and Mythal were of the same… whatever any of them were.

"The storm is dying down," he started after several long moments. "We should head out."

The next day passed much the same as the first, only this time Solas made certain all of them wrapped clothes over their face to help keep out the dust. He still carried little Atisha so that they could keep a good pace and make it to the second tower by daybreak when the storms would worsen and the heat would become unbearable.

The second tower reflected the first in what little it had to offer. This time the little girl was too exhausted to play on the statue and she no doubt remembered her mother's anger on the last one. Solas still sat apart from them, not really feeling like he had a right to join them. Felassan and Etha talked for a while after Atisha fell asleep beside her mother.

Solas stayed close to the wall, his eyes locked on the ceiling and the painted designs. Where had everything gone wrong? He closed his eyes.

The last tower on the trip rested near the edge of the wasteland. It would take another night for the group to make it out of the barren land and to the town. Perhaps once they were there more would be clear. While in the temple, Solas knew he and the sentinels would only get information when supplies were being brought in.

He hadn't thought on getting the latest news before heading out and now regretted it. But he had also known he couldn't stay another day in the temple pretending to be something he never had been.

The last day of the journey arrived with a blustering winds strong enough to almost rip them from ground. Etha had taken the lead in order to shelter Solas, Atisha, and Felassan from the worst of the winds. The sky was darkened to a tinted red and black by the color of the grit filling the air.

There was no way to tell it they were still on the path, let alone heading out of the wastelands, but Etha kept going and Solas kept glancing towards the sky in a vain hope he could find the stars.

"How much further?" Felassan called from behind Solas.

"Through this!" Etha called back. "We won't see the town until its right on top of us."

As if she had spoken the right words, the rough outline of the town came into view. "It's ahead," Solas told her.

Etha paused, squinting through the grit. She nodded and kept moving. The wind eased a little as they stepped into town. No one was out and most of the windows had been boarded shut to guard against the colder season's dust storms.

"There should be an inn close by," Etha said in soft tones. The wind was low enough now they didn't have to shout to be heard.

Solas nodded and shifted the little girl on his back. She gave a small protest. Right then, he was just glad all of them had managed to make it out of the wastelands. As it turned out, it had been a good thing Etha had come. A part of him knew it had been too many centuries since he had crossed it for him to have found his way through the storm here.

* * *

Elven phrases used:  
_Mamae _– mom, mother; mommy

* * *

**(Author's Note: **I need more fluff or something that at least a little funny! Holly cow, too many serious chapters.

Yes, Fen'Harel's temple I chose to be in the Anderfels. The way I have it, is that this temple was constructed where it was because the veil was naturally thin there and not because Fen'Harel didn't want visitors.

Another note: This is again just for me. I am rereading chapters and editing them; then uploading them and I need to keep track of it if I don't delete all of the author's note.**) **


	18. Chapter 17: Her Name is Nysa!

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 17: Her Name is Nysa!

The inn turned out to be on the far side of the small town. Felassan followed his master and Etha into the inn and glanced around. Very few elvhen were there and the innkeeper's eyes light up when he saw them.

"Welcome!" he moved out from behind the counter. "We don't get a lot of travelers this way. How long will you be staying?" asked the innkeeper.

Beside Felassan, his master straightened from setting Atisha down. "Not long," he replied in smooth tones. "Is there a stable nearby?" he asked.

"Yes," the innkeeper replied with a quick glance at Etha and Felassan. "Best harts around for miles or halla if they're more to your liking."

His master nodded to the innkeeper before saying, "We would like a room for the night."

"Just one? I have several open."

"One will be fine."

Felassan noticed his master's narrowed eyes and wondered how much money Fen'Harel had brought with them. Granted, Felassan had to remind himself that his master had originally planned on coming alone. Whatever money he had thought to bring wasn't going to be enough for all of them in the long run. And from what Felassan remembered, his master didn't much like taking the riches of the temple with him. The selling of the ram hide and horns had pointed to that much.

Without another word, Fen'Harel took the key and led the way up to the room. Felassan kept an eye on his master. The weight of a hand on his shoulder made him jump. He turned to find himself looking straight into Etha's bright, almost icy blue eyes.

"Don't worry, the master is stronger than he looks," she told him. "Just give him time and space. He'll come to terms with whatever is on his mind."

The three of them followed Fen'Harel into the room. The god paused before he turned to them. "I'll see if we can get a few more supplies before night fall."

"Do you want company?" Felassan asked.

This made Fen'Harel pause in the door. He didn't turn to them only spoke one word, "No," before he slipped from the room.

A hollowness gripped at Felassan's heart as he watched Fen'Harel go. After all of this, could he really blame the god for wanting to be alone? Yet, he feared for his master now more than ever. Despite the fact the god had woken, he was still broken and shattered. He barely slept the past few days and didn't seem to want food.

"Do you really think he can pull through this?" Felassan asked as he turned to Etha.

The older sentinel had settled on the floor and was watching her daughter explore the room. Her eyes flickered from Atisha to Felassan before he gaze rested again on her daughter. "It isn't my place to tend to the master," she started, "what I can tell you is the god my family has served for countless generations is strong. Fen'Harel has been down many times over the centuries but nothing has broken him like this before now."

"So you don't know." Felassan let out a long breath as he settled on the ground. He set his master's pack down next him and rested his chin on the palm of his hand.

"None of us can fathom the mind of someone who has seen the centuries Fen'Harel has." Etha's gaze was steady as she looked across the room at Felassan. "I can say that the countless years of war between the gods has upset Fen'Harel more than any other god. He's been against such conflicts for as long as any of us can remember."

Felassan nodded. "I'd gathered that much from the time I spent in Mythal's Temple. Abelas stated something similar." But this wasn't like any of the wars his mother had told him about. When Andruil started to move, Fen'Harel would be hard pressed to keep pace with her. While his master was one of the "kinder" gods and wasn't called the God of Freedom and Rebellion for nothing, he didn't have the support that Andruil had. There was also the fact most people didn't really know what Fen'Harel was like. They, like Felassan once had, judged him on the more common tales such as the "Slow Arrow." But no matter how his master had done it, he had done what that village had asked and slayed the beast.

"If you ever doubt Master's intentions, know that everything he does is for the good of the People," Etha told him. "He believes that the reason they fought the Forgotten was to give the People the freedom we didn't used to have. And I doubt he will ever stop fighting for that belief."

Felassan bowed his head. The war with the Forgotten had been sixty centuries ago. The length of the war had been long since forgotten by all outside of the creators. If anyone knew its length it would have been Fen'Harel, but Felassan doubted he would ever get details about what happened back then from Fen'Harel. The memory of his master's scar laced back sent a shiver through him. No wounds, no matter how deep could inflict such scars on a god. Only those weapons he had spoken of. And Andruil had such weapons.

"Do you think we can match Andruil's forces?" he asked at length.

Etha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "So it's really come down to a war between Andruil and Fen'Harel."

A small frown pulled at Felassan's lips. "You sound as if you thought there wasn't a chance for this to happen."

"Do you know the legends which speak of Fen'Harel and Andruil?" she asked.

Felassan nodded. He had heard the story many times from his mother. "As it is said, Fen'Harel was captured by Andruil. He had angered her by hunting a halla without her blessing, and she tied him to a tree and declared that he would have to serve in her bed for a year and one day to pay her back." He stopped at Etha's amused smile. "What?"

"That's one of the many stories, yes," she stated. "She hunted him like any prey, but for something other than his hide. The huntress and the wolf. Locked forever in a game of prey and predator."

"Are you saying that Andruil actually loved our Master?" Felassan asked. "I always thought she just wanted payment for the fact he had hunted on her lands or something like that."

Etha smiled. "I am saying that Andruil fell madly in love with Fen'Harel, but Fen'Harel could never return her feelings. Eventually the huntress grew bitter towards him. There are even some rumors which tell of the fact the one woman Fen'Harel loved and who loved him back was killed out of jealousy by Andruil."

"Is it true?" Felassan couldn't stop himself from asking.

"I don't know." Etha shrugged and drew her daughter towards her as if she feared something might a happen to her.

"What wrong, _mamae_?" the little girl asked, blinking up at Ether with wide eyes.

"Nothing, _da'len_." Etha smiled down at her daughter and stroked her dark hair. "What is true, is there is too much history between any of the creators," she told Felassan. "They were around before history even started being recorded. And what is clear, is that despite their appearance, they are not elvhen. No elvhen, dreamer, mage, or otherwise, could ever hope to hold as much power as they do in their small finger."

Felassan tilted his head to one side. He had seen the way Mythal had greeted Fen'Harel and had thought that perhaps once, long ago there had been something between the two of them. But he didn't know. He also had seen the battle between the three gods and knew they each held more power than Felassan could ever even imagine.

"It must be lonely," he whispered this to himself.

At this Etha laughed. "Perhaps it is," she confessed, "but to hold that much power and have people think of you as a god without you asking, does sound wonderful."

Felassan laughed. "It does." Yet, his master was withdrawn and the pain he now felt… Perhaps living for so long, having all those memories, all of that pain and knowing the fate of an entire people rested with what you did wasn't so great after all. "And it doesn't at the same time."

At this Etha frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Our master has lived a long life and the only ones who remained consent are the other gods. If they're always fighting and betraying one another…" he trailed off, not wanting to be the one to tell her what their master had done in order to save the other gods from Andruil's greed.

"I hadn't thought about it that way," Etha confessed her eyes now locked on her daughter who had fallen asleep in her arms. Her little head rested on Etha's chest. "And then to not have children…" she trailed off.

"What do you mean?" Felassan asked.

"It's a little obvious with the way Fen'Harel acts around Atisha," – her eyes softened as she looked at her daughter – "and _you_." She turned her icy gaze onto him.

"Around me?" Felassan stared at her, confused.

Etha laughed. "He tries to be subtitle about it, but he seems to view you almost like a son rather than his high priest. I think it's one of the reasons he doesn't want to train just yet."

A small laugh escaped Felassan. "I don't see it," he confessed, trying not to laugh again.

"Perhaps you will one day."

Felassan sighed and glanced at the window. The sun had risen high while they'd been talking. "I'm going to see if master is all right," he told Etha as he stood. "He's been gone long enough to buy half the city several times over."

She laughed at this. "Leave his bag here. I don't think I'll be leaving anytime soon." She nodded to her sleeping daughter.

"All right." Felassan nodded to her before he headed down to the main part of the inn.

"Hello there!"

He stopped short at the sound of a cheery voice. He glanced around and saw a young woman smiling in his direction. Felassan glanced behind him, but no one else was around him.

"Umm, hello?" he asked, uncertain she was actually speaking with him or not.

"You wouldn't happen to be traveling towards Arlathan in the next day or so, would you?" she asked, blinking slowly at Felassan.

She was extremely pretty. Her brown hair fell around a beautiful face in small waves of curls. Her eyes were a light golden brown as she blinked up at him. Felassan felt his heart flicker as he stared at her, mouth dry.

"I," – he swallowed, it was harder to speak now and he was aware of how hot he was feeling – "I don't know," he confessed, trying to keep his voice as steady as he could.

"Oh, that's a shame." The girl tucked a lock of her curly hair behind one perfectly pointed ear. "If you don't mind, can you help me with a few things?"

Felassan felt himself nod before he could utter a single word. All thoughts on checking on his master were forgotten. He couldn't look away from this woman or figure out why she was talking with him of all people. But right then he honestly didn't care that much either.

*~ X ~*

The wind had picked up since the night. Solas pulled the cloth over his mouth higher and took a deep breath. The few shops here had been more than happy to see him when he entered. Less so when they learned he wasn't there to get much more than a few items and information. Most had scowled at him and thus, so far he didn't have much on what was going on closer to Arlathan.

Solas paused and looked up towards the sky. Thin strands of sunlight flickered through the layers of windblown dust and grit. He could only just see the fact he had been gone for over an hour already, but he didn't want to head back with little supplies and no information at all. One shop keeper had to be able to tell him something of what was going on in the world.

Considering how long it would take them to reach Arlathan, he wanted to know as much as he could. Otherwise he would be walking into a nest of vipers, blindfolded. And that wasn't an experience he wanted.

Solas entered the last of the small shops. He lowered the cloth around his face and looked around. This appeared to be the main store of the small town. There were more supplies here for travel, most looked to be for those wanting to travel across the wasteland to the temple.

"You look lost," stated a gruff voice.

Solas turned to see a slave looking at him through the shadows of the shop. It was rare to see a human slave this far from central Elvhenan. The _vallaslin _he wore pointed to his master being a follower of Falon'Din.

The slave's tone pointed to something else. "I might be," he stated in smooth tones. "Perhaps you could show me where to go?" he suggested.

"This way, milord." The slave gestured for Solas to follow.

The two of them stepped out of the shop and stopped in the shelter of the building. For a long moment slave glanced around before he nodded and turned back to Solas.

"My master heard you asking the other store owners for news," he told Solas in hushed tones. "There are rumors of darkness falling. Andruil is madden with power and is taking all the other gods' lands. None know what's happened to the other gods. All are silent."

"My thanks," Solas said with a bow of his head.

"There's more," the slave moved closer to Solas. "The word went out that the only other god left is Fen'Harel. Few within this town are still loyal to you, milord, but I doubt others will be." His eyes were intent as he looked into Solas's.

Solas knew he could deny that he was Fen'Harel and knew that this was what the slave was waiting for. But in the same instance he knew that the slave had more to say and that he hoped Solas was Fen'Harel.

"While word has spread to the nobles of your deeds, it has also spread to us," he whispered. "We know what you have done for countless slaves and all of us will stand with you when the time comes."

Still Solas didn't speak. There was more to be heard. And he now knew how this slave knew what Fen'Harel looked like outside of his wolf form. Only those Solas freed from slavery or really spoke with outside of the Fade and had revealed himself to, knew what he looked like.

The slave moved in closer. "No one here is going to tell you what you need," the slave's voice had dropped.

"What do you know?" Solas asked, tones soft.

The slave straightened. "If you take me with you, I will tell you all I've heard."

Solas felt his jaw tighten, but he didn't otherwise speak out against this. An army wasn't built over night, it was built up one person at a time. "If you come, will you be willing to fight for your freedom?" Solas asked.

"More than," the slave replied, his eye shining.

"Then you may."

"They plan to attack you and your followers when the sun goes down tonight."

Solas took a deep breath. This town had once been one of the most loyal to him. Had Andruil's reach spread so far already? Or perhaps he had sowed his own destruction by releasing slaves whenever he could.

"If I may, what do you plan to do, milord?"

"Do you have access to the stables?" Solas asked.

"Yes."

"Then here's the plan." So Solas told the slave what to do and what to gather for the ride. They would need at least three strong harts and that was assuming he didn't ride. "Meet me at the back of the inn with the harts when the sun reaches its highest point," he told the slave.

"It will be done." With those words the slave slipped off, not heading back into the store at all.

Solas hesitated. If it turned out to be a trick he knew he had enough power to deal with it and Etha was one of the best warriors among the sentinels. Granted her priority was her daughter as would be Solas's if it came down to a fight. The girl was too young for her life to be ended just like that. So was Felassan.

The dust blew around Solas drawing him from his thoughts. He turned his gaze towards the sky and took a deep breath. There was little time to ponder what could be. Solas took another deep breath before he turned and started back towards the inn. He'd not gotten all they would need for the journey. But most of what they needed was food and he could get that if need be while they traveled.

When Solas entered the inn, he noted the fact that Felassan was sitting with a young woman about his age. His cheeks were stained red and he appeared to be trying very hard not to stare at the girl. He turned his gaze to the innkeeper.

The innkeeper was eyeing Solas. He kept wiping the same glass despite the fact is was already dry. His eyes tracked Solas as he crossed the room towards the hall leading to the rooms. This more than anything else confirmed what the slave had told Solas. The people of this village had been swayed by Andruil and it wasn't safe to stay here for the night, let alone the rest of the day.

"Solas!"

Felassan's shout made Solas stop just shy of the door and look towards the boy.

The boy raced over to Solas. The young woman followed at a slower pace, her light brown eyes flickered down Solas's form as she no doubt took in his appearance. Nothing appeared on her features, no disapproval to what he was wearing; no reaction at all. His eyes narrowed.

"This is Nysa," Felassan introduced her. "She's heading for Arlathan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." She held out her hand to Solas.

There was an air about her Solas found he much didn't like. "And you, I'm sure," his voice was smooth and even, betraying nothing of his feelings towards this woman. He took her offered hand, but didn't do any other gesture as would have befitted someone of her position. She was a hunter by the looks of her clothes and a good one at that. The bow strapped to her back was one of the finest makes he'd seen outside of Andruil's. But the girl also didn't wear anything that pointed her back to Andruil either.

"If you're heading for the capitol, would it all right if I tagged along?" she asked. "I have my own mount and supplies so I won't be a burden. I just don't care to travel the roads alone this time of year. Especially given all the unrest in the region."

"You would be safer traveling apart from us," Solas told her and turned to Felassan. "Head back to the room," he told the boy.

Felassan had a crestfallen look in his eye that Solas knew all too well. The boy liked this woman. Yet, there was something off about her. Something that Solas didn't trust and he didn't know what it was. This unnerved him all the more.

Both the woman and Solas waited until the boy had gone before either of them spoke again.

"The roads aren't just dangerous for me to travel," she told him. "Even one of the creators would be hard pressed to reach Arlathans with only a small group."

"Your warning is duly noted," Solas stated. "But you would still be safer traveling with another group."

At this she laughed and waved her hand through the air, gesturing to the whole of the inn. "Do you happen to see others traveling? I certainly don't." Both her eyebrows rose. "I am a good hunter and can provide your group with protection as surely as your group can provide me with protection. It's a relationship which will work well enough."

Solas eyed her. There was a lot of risk in her traveling with them for her and for them. A small breath escaped him. "If you wish to travel with us, you may," he conceded. With those words he turned and walked away from her. He had agreed to let her come, but that didn't mean he had to tell her they were leaving now or like it.

Once in the hall beyond the main room. Nysa spoke, "I take it you're leaving now?" she asked in crisp tones. "The innkeeper was giving you a rather nasty look. It's sort of a hint to get out."

Solas didn't turn to her. "We are," the words were dragged from him. He didn't like this one bit. There was no way she was someone he could trust. Everything about her just felt _wrong_. He was certain if he had hair it would have been raised with the unease he got from her.

With an effort Solas shoved aside those thoughts and entered the room. Etha was setting across from the door, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword when the door opened. She relaxed when she noticed it was Solas.

"Wake her," Solas stated as he crossed over to his bag and took it. "We need to go now."

"Why?" Felassan asked, straightening. His eyes lit up when he noticed Nysa standing in the door. "You changed your mind?" the boy asked.

Solas looked at him and stated, "We'll need all the help we can get for what's coming." To Etha he said, "There is a friend waiting with several harts behind the inn. We're heading there. If anything happens I will be running behind the group," he told her.

Etha opened her mouth then stopped before she uttered the protest he knew had been on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes flickered to her daughter then back to Solas. "I'll do as you ask."

"Nysa, can I trust you to watch for an ambush ahead of the group?" He turned to the huntress.

She nodded and straightened. "You can."

"Felassan," – he turned to the boy – "use whatever magic you do know to guard the back of the group. Understood?"

"But," the boy started, looking worried.

"Understood?" he stressed the word.

Felassan bowed his head. "Understood. But be careful… Solas."

Solas suppressed the urge to snort at this. Instead he just nodded before leading the group out of the room. Be careful? It had been a long time since someone had said that to him and truly meant it. Most knew he couldn't die and he knew that Felassan would know this as well; yet, the boy had said that.

A loud bugle came from one the harts as Solas neared them and the slave. Fear sparked in the hart's beautiful brown eyes. The large elk-like animal reared back, narrow head thrashing up into the air and heavy horns catching the light of the dust covered sun.

Solas took a few paces back so the hart could be calmed. "Go with the others," he told the slave. "They'll see to your safety as well."

"Thank you, milord." The slave mounted the hart behind Felassan.

The boy looked at Solas with worried eyes. "Solas," he started.

Solas held out his bag to the boy. "Don't lose it," he told him before turning. He could already see the hart's bugle had alerted the village to the fact they were leaving. "Go!" he shouted at them as the innkeeper rushed out holding a long bow.

"Master," Felassan protested.

"Go!" Solas growled.

The boy didn't have a choice, the growl had been deep enough to frighten his stead. The harts took off down the road. Angry shouts filled the air.

"They're running." "Stop them in Andruil's name!"

Solas raced after the steads, but stopped and whipped around. A large barrier erupted up. Arrows froze mid-air before falling around him a rain of wood, feathers, and metal.

Magic crackled through the air. The next moment the veil was ripped open and massive balls of flame and rock poured down onto the village. Screams sounded, echoing up to the dust and flame filled sky.

More arrows raced towards him, missing their mark. Solas whipped around and raced off. His form shifted into a wolf without missing a stride. Wind howled in his ears, his paws flew over the ground, carrying him easily towards the others.

In the distance, ahead of him, he could hear the sounds battle. The others hadn't managed to get far before they'd been ambushed. Solas pushed himself forward until his paws barely struck the ground. The others burst into sight through the dust, surrounded by more of the villagers.

A howl of rage tore from Solas. Magic whipped around him, freezing the enemy closest to him. He leapt into the air. His massive form slammed into the next enemy, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of the elf's neck. His eyes flashed as he fell with the dead warrior.

Several of the enemy closest to him screamed, "Wolves!"

Solas growled in response. He was the only wolf, but he found it funny they thought him a normal beast. They attacked him as they would such a wolf. A barrier erupted up around Solas. He lunged around a sword, lightening crackled out around him hitting another enemy as he bowled into the other. His claws ripped the throat of the villager with ease.

Nearby the others were having a terrible time trying to defend as they kept their mounts from bucking them off. The only one not having troubles with her mount was Nysa. She stood on her calm hart, raining a hail of arrows at the few remaining villagers.

Soon the villagers were screaming and racing back towards their burning home. Solas followed a few paces nipping at their heels with his teeth and magic to speed them on their way.

Once certain they were gone, Solas padded back to the others and stopped at the sight of Nysa pointing an arrow at him.

"Wait!" Felassan shouted at her. "He's not a wolf."

At the boy's words, Solas moved forward, shifting back into his elvhen form. The ease of years allowed him to form upright still walking towards them without missing a stride.

Nysa's eyes went wide. "Fen'Harel." The name came as a breath.

"Felassan!" Solas called to the boy and gestured for him to come there.

The boy leapt off his mount which eyed Solas as if he was about to attack it. "Yes, master?" the boy asked.

This earned him a look of disapproval, but Solas didn't speak out against the boy saying master. It would take time for him to get used to not referring to Solas like that.

"There are a grouping of rocks a day's ride from here," he told the boy. "Etha will know the way to them. I'll meet you there."

"Aren't you going to come with us?" Felassan asked, his violet eyes wide.

At this Solas gave a humorless laugh. "Only if you want to be fighting your stead the entire way. I will run ahead."

With those words he turned from the group. He started down the road before breaking into a run. His form shifted again. He stopped and looked back. His pale gaze locked onto Nysa as she helped the human back up behind Felassan.

Perhaps she could be trusted. Perhaps his misgivings were just born out of all which had happened the last few days. And perhaps, just perhaps, they were real. He snorted and shook himself before he turned.

Soon he was flying over the ground, paws only just skimming the earth with each stride. His ears were pinned flat. A joy he'd not felt in days rushed through him. The speed, the sharpness of the air, of sight, and sound. In this, he could forget the pain and sorrow. For all that was left was the simple, primal joy of the race, of the hunt, and the land stretching out before him in an unending mass.


	19. Chapter 18: A Promise Kept

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 18: Promise Kept

"I can't believe it," Nysa breathed when they were well on their way towards the rocks Fen'Harel had mentioned.

"W-what?" Felassan stammered over the question when he looked at her. He felt heat rise in his face. Why did he make such a fool of himself whenever he tried to talk with her?

"That your sentinels and that man was-was Fen'Harel himself." Nysa's eyes shown. "I mean, I knew this was his domain, but to have actually seen him, to have _met_ him. He's the most reclusive of all the creators."

At this Etha chuckled. "Then you know little about our master. He spends most of his time among the People which would make him the _least_ reclusive of the creators."

Nysa blinked before her brown eyes grew wide. "What? Really? I've heard he's more likely to answer a prayer to him, but I always assumed he did so to get a good laugh or something."

"That's what you get from listening to all the stories," Etha's tone was more than little harsh as she said this.

Felassan could see her shoulders had stiffened and suspected that if she wasn't facing away from him her pale, icy eyes would be flashing with rage. Most people didn't know much about their master, so why she was so upset over this, Felassan didn't know.

"It's all right," he found himself saying to Nysa who looked a little crestfallen, "I used to think the same thing before I met him." He kept his gaze fixed on Esha and it did help him be able to speak in a steady voice to the Nysa.

"That's crazy talk," sniffed the shemlen from behind Felassan. "Even _I _knew more than that about Fen'Harel and I'm human."

At this Nysa sniff. "No one asked you _shemlen_," she shot a glare at him.

Felassan couldn't see the shemlen's reaction because he was seated behind him but he heard him growl. "I'm free now, call me Aleron! Not shemlen,"

A smile curled Nysa's beautiful. "Really, free? No slave is ever free, they carry the marks of slavery on them their entire life even if the _vallaslin_ is removed."

The words were a jolt of lightening through Felassan's heart. "What would know about it?" he snapped, glaring at her with raw anger flaring through him. "You've never been a slave!" With that he kicked his hart forward. The beast and the one trailing them moved up until he and Aleron were level with Etha and Atisha.

"What a slave?" the little girl asked, blinking at Felassan with her eyes, so like her mother's, wide.

"Something you need never worry about, _da'len_," Etha told her daughter, stoking her hand with her free hand. To Nysa she added, "I won't go around saying things like that. Especially when we're in Fen'Harel's presences."

Aleron shifted behind Felassan. The shemlen didn't seem certain what to do or say. Then he whispered a question to Felassan, "You were a slave then, too?" his breath was hot on Felassan's ear.

The only reply from Felassan was him bowing his head. He didn't much like the idea of confessing this to a shemlen. Even among the slaves there had been separation between the races. He remembered being confused about it as a child until he learned that if a shemlen and an elf had a child together that child was a shemlen. There had been a fear in the People since first learning this that their people would eventually die off if they allowed shemlen too many privileges.

There was no chance to reply as it was. Their group was nearing a small grouping of rocks. A dark shadow point to the fact there must have been a cave within those, but Felassan wasn't too certain. He pulled his hart to a stop near the rocks while Etha dismounted beside him.

"We're here," the warrior stated before she pick up her daughter and set her on the ground.

"You took your sweet time," a smooth, familiar voice sounded from atop the rocks.

Felassan looked up and saw Fen'Harel looking down at them from above. The blood had been cleaned from him and now his pale, gray-blue eyes glittered in the light of the dying sun. Felassan suppressed a shiver at the sight of his master's pale gaze. His hart pawed the ground, giving a nervous snort. Felassan couldn't blame the beast. There was always something about his master, no matter which form he was in, which reminded Felassan of a wolf.

Etha laughed. "No offense, master, but not all of us can change into a wolf."

Felassan couldn't help it, he smiled, fighting back a laugh. If they were all wolves it would mean they wouldn't need the harts at all. Granted, Felassan had no wish to change his form. He had enough problems with the gifts he already had without adding to them.

The sun was vanishing beyond the horizon when Felassan and Etha finished unpacking the last hart. The massive mounts grazed near to the small cave. All the while Fen'Harel watched them from his perch. The last rays caught the stone and cast an almost golden light over the landscape. It was breathtaking.

As night fell around them, Felassan worked with Etha to get dinner ready. It was the first warm meal in days and Felassan thoroughly enjoyed the food even if it was plain compared to the food he'd gotten used to at the temple. As it had been for days now, Fen'Harel sat apart from them. His pale eyes were locked on the food Etha had given him. Their master stirred the food, not eating it.

Felassan shifted. He made to stand. As if knowing what Felassan was going to say, Fen'Harel bent to the food and slowly started to eat it. A small breath escaped Felassan and he settled back down beside Etha.

"You're worried again," Etha whispered to him.

"Yeah." Felassan glanced towards Fen'Harel.

"He'll be fine," Etha assured him. "Just give him time."

Felassan nodded. He wasn't sure he believed her though. Perhaps if she knew what their master had done – but, still, it wasn't his place.

After dinner Felassan curled up near the fire. He kept his eyes on Fen'Harel, watching as the god fell asleep near the back of the cave. At least tonight it seemed that Fen'Harel would sleep.

Felassan drifted to sleep.

When he next opened his eyes it was in the mist covered dream of the Fade. A beautiful, glowing white wolf was padding its way through the fields of Felassan's dream. It took him a moment to realize the pure white wolf had to be Fen'Harel. The wolf stopped near Felassan and sat down.

"Master?" Felassan asked, uncertain.

The wolf shifted. The next moment Fen'Harel was standing before Felassan. "It's time you learned more of your powers as a _somniari_," Fen'Harel told him. Without another word Fen'Harel turned.

At once Felassan's dream turned to wisps around him, melding away into the Fade. The place they now stood wasn't at all how Felassan had imagined the Fade looking. They stood within a rich forest. The only sign this was Fade was the odd green tinged light and the signs of ruins moving in the sky far overhead.

Felassan moved forward, eyes wide as he tried to take in all that was around him. "How?" he whispered.

"What do you see?" Fen'Harel asked.

Not able to take his eyes from the Fade, Felassan spoke in soft tones, "A forest."

A soft laugh came from Fen'Harel. "That's not what I meant. Some _somniari_ can see trails leading into memories or the dreams of others. Focus on the Fade around and truly look this time."

Felassan took a deep breath and forced himself to do as Fen'Harel instructed him. Small wisps of the Fade shifted around him. He could make out several forms sleeping around him and Fen'Harel.

"Is that the others?" Felassan asked.

"In part, yes, and in part it is only a reflection of them moved to the Fade as they dream." Fen'Harel knelt down beside one of the wisps and reached out. "If you wished, you could enter their dream. The more powerful a _somniari _is, the more likely you are to be able to control their dream and bind it to your own will."

Felassan shivered. "I don't much like that idea." He blinked. "Isn't that what you're able to do, master?"

"Solas," his master corrected as he stood. "And, yes."

"Is your ability more powerful than other _somniari_?" Felassan couldn't stop himself from asking this. He wanted to know how much of a difference there was between a _somniari_ and Fen'Harel.

A small sigh escaped Fen'Harel. He stood. "If I poured enough power into it, I could rip apart of the mind of the person in question. Tear they're very sanity from them. Or, even, affect them back in the mortal realm." He closed his eyes. "Though I rarely try to do either."

"Why not?" Felassan asked.

Fen'Harel regarded him with an almost sad expression. "Just because I have the power doesn't make it right to use it." He took a deep breath. "Look at it this way," – he paused – "Elgar'nan had the power to melt stone to lava and destroy villages with just a flick of his wrist, but did he use his power to do so?"

"No," Felassan answered slowly, trying not shudder at the thought of such power.

"Dirthamen could see far into the future and pull the strings in the present to change the future to the one he would rather have," Fen'Harel continued. "But he never did. He stepped back and allowed things to progress, dropping only hints to what he had seen. Sylaise could feel pain within others and could worsen it with only a thought, make a man or beast believe they are burning from inside out; yet, she never did this."

Felassan felt himself growing cold. The more Fen'Harel spoke, the less he liked the idea of his master's powers. And the power the other gods had possessed. Such power… So Etha had been right, each of the gods held more power in their pinky than anyone else alive in the whole of Elvhenan. He doubted his master just had amplified powers of a _somniari_. He could remember seeing his master change to that massive wolf after Mythal's death. The world felt as if it were being torn as the veil had weakened around his master.

"Enough of this. We're here so you can learn more of your own power and not mine." Fen'Harel turned from the dreams of their companion and started to move deeper into the Fade.

"What do you mean?" Felassan hurried to keep up with him. "Is there more to being a _somniari_ than all of this." Felassan gestured around him at being able to enter the Fade so easily. He hadn't even known this. He just knew most of the time demons were drawn to him while he slept and he had hated it. The nightmares and the fear that one day he wouldn't be able to tell if it was a demon or just part of his dream. But this – He paused and looked around. There was so much here. The beauty of the Fade was almost breathtaking.

"Some are able to find pieces of the past," Fen'Harel explained, but the way he said this made Felassan believe that his master was the only one to possess this power.

"You don't sound convinced that there are?"

"Most _somniari_ can actually," Fen'Harel stated. "I've yet to find any who are interested enough to see it though."

"Outside of yourself?" Felassan asked.

At this Fen'Harel chuckled. "Outside of myself."

Felassan couldn't stop a small smile from appearing on his face. In the Fade his master seemed a lot happier than he had been in the waking world. He couldn't blame him for feeling more at ease here. There was something about the Fade which called to Felassan.

"How do you know the difference between a demon and something in a dream?" Felassan asked.

"Hmm," Fen'Harel paused and looked in one direction off into the distance. "The easiest way is by knowing what each nature of a demon is. Pride, Rage, Sloth, Desire, Envy, Despair, Hunger; Fear. But those who most commonly target _somniari_ are Desire and Pride."

"So I learn more about these two demons and I can better guard against them?" Felassan asked. "What if another comes that isn't among those you listed?"

"Such as?" Fen'Harel asked, now looking at Felassan with both eyebrows raised.

"I don't know. Some Demon not of those virtues? Are there others?"

"Not commonly," stated his master. "Unless it's spirits you're afraid of."

"Spirits?" Felassan frowned. "Wouldn't they be the good side of the demon?"

At this Fen'Harel smiled. "A spirit is the purest form of a virtue, the soft aspects of the world we know. A demon is that virtue turned wrong. The gentler the spirit, the less of a desire it will have to join our world."

"Which don't want to?" Felassan asked. There was so much to learn and his master seemed to know everything there was to know about the Fade.

"Take a Spirit of Compassion," Fen'Harel started, "such a gentle spirit will only want to join our world if the only way it can help lies on the other side of the veil. Generally the spirit will just reach out through dreams to touch the People. Spirits of Wisdom won't ever try to join with our world."

Felassan blinked, taken aback by this. "But why wouldn't they want to? I thought all spirits had some wish to see our world."

"They do," Fen'Harel told him, "but there are many ways to learn and see our world. Wisdom will search out ancient secrets buried deep in memory to do so."

"Hello!" a voice echoed from above them.

Felassan jumped and looked up to see a glowing white figure kneeling on the ceiling. The figure looked like an elvhen teenager a little younger than Felassan was. His hair turned to white and clothes fluttering in some unknown wind. He blinked down at them with curious blue eyes, a smile playing on his face.

"What?" Felassan stared at the boy. "Why are you upside down?" It wasn't possible! Yet, here this boy was, crouched above them as he was on the ground and they were on the ceiling.

The boy blinked at Felassan. "I'm not, you are."

"What? I am?" The moment Felassan said this, the sharp tug of gravity pulled at him. The world flipped on him. Pain lanced through his head as he landed hard next to the boy. Felassan gasped in shock.

A roar of laugher made Felassan sit up. He looked around for the source then down. Fen'Harel was doubled over, clutching his stomach as he laughed. Felassan felt heat rise in his face at once. He wanted to hide just then at having made such a fool of himself.

The boy tilted his head to one side beside Felassan. "I made you hurt. Embarrassed, a fool before my master, such a fool. You're not a fool, you're learning. You didn't know."

Felassan gaped, staring at the boy. It wasn't a boy at all! This had to be one of the spirits. But which?

"I am Compassion," the boy told him. It turned to Fen'Harel who seemed to have stopped laughing.

Felassan followed the spirit's gaze.

His master was looking at him. In a graceful manor, Fen'Harel leapt, twisted and landed lightly beside Felassan. "I should have warned you, thought defines reality here." He turned from Felassan to Compassion. "Still, it is curious that you're even here Compassion. This is far from your normal location."

"I wanted to see and be sure you were all right. The pain has lessened. You've returned to the Fade with a lighter heart. I'm glad."

"Solas!" a shout filled the air moments before vividly pink figure slammed into Felassan's master. The next moment Fen'Harel and the figure fell to ground.

"Love," Fen'Harel gasped.

Felassan stared at the new spirit, awestricken. She or it was even more beautiful than Nysa was. Her hair flowed out behind her, tinged pink by the light she gave off. Her ears tapered in fine, perfect points. She wore a form fighting, pink dress which showed every curve of her body.

"We all hoped to see you again." Another voice sounded behind Felassan.

He looked over his shoulder to see another spirit had joined them. This one gave off a brighter light compared to Compassion and, what he assumed was a Spirit of Love by what his master had called the pink spirit.

Fen'Harel managed to straighten despite the fact Love still had him in a tight embrace and was rubbed her face against his. The next moment he fell back again when Loved pulled him down.

Felassan wasn't certain if he should be trying to help his master or just fighting not to laugh. It was hard not to. Despite the fact the Spirit of Love was practically strangling his master, Fen'Harel didn't have a look of discontent or embarrassment, only the light of laughter sparking in his pale eyes.

"You're strangling him, Love," stated the bright spirit.

"He's here, he's back, how can I not, Hope?" Love continued to hug Fen'Harel.

"He can't find his footing if you don't leave him be," stated a stronger, female voice.

Felassan turned towards the voice. This new spirit was gray in color. It stood, arms folded across its chest and sharp eyes narrowed as it looked at Love with disapproval.

"Please release Solas," a soft, light voice came from beside the gray spirit. This spirit was smaller in height. Its form was distinctly female, glowing of purple mist and eyes giving off a soft green light.

Love released Fen'Harel.

He straightened, rubbing his neck. "My thanks, Wisdom." Fen'Harel stood. "What are all of you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Love wrapped its arms around Fen'Harel's neck. "We were keeping an eye on you."

"But you would have to travel through a demon's domain to get here," Fen'Harel said with a glare at Love.

"Together, the Demon of Fear didn't dare come near us," Wisdom told him. It moved towards Fen'Harel, passing by Felassan without even glancing at him.

Felassan watched as Love released Fen'Harel moved away when Wisdom stopped before his master. There was something different about this. Something different about the way Wisdom greeted Fen'Harel and how he took its hand. The softness of his master's gaze as he looked at the Spirit of Wisdom compared to any other spirit or elvhen he looked at.

"Old friends," Compassion whispered so that only Felassan could hear. "Forever friends, companions. Watching, learning, discovering together. All memories, truths, new thoughts and paths, found together. They've known one another for centuries beyond count. Since darkness pressed on both our realms."

Felassan averted his gaze from his master and the Spirit of Wisdom. He looked at Compassion, his mind spinning with questions. If what it said was true then Wisdom was over sixty centuries old.

"Spirits can live that long?" Felassan asked.

Compassion blinked at him. "Confused, not understanding. You thought us mortal?" there was question to Compassion's voice now. "We die corrupted, twisted from our purpose. Gone, but not gone."

Felassan barely noticed the other spirits had surrounded his master. He was too intent on what Compassion was saying. Confusion twisted in his mind at what the spirit was trying to tell him. What did it mean by "gone, but not gone?" What did any of what it was trying to say mean? Where they immortal or mortal?

"We are thought, emotion." Compassion tilted its head to one side until its head rested on one shoulder. "We are eternal; yet, not."

The more the spirit spoke, the less Felassan understood.

"Confused, more and more confused. The spirit is twisting the words, I don't _understand_," Compassion pouted. "I didn't mean to confuse," it told Felassan. "Speak with Solas, he will explain it better."

Felassan turned back to his master to see that he was moving towards Felassan.

"That is enough of a lesson for tonight," Fen'Harel told Felassan as he held out his hand to Felassan.

"R-right." Felassan took his master's hand. His mind still swirling with questions.

"In the evenings I will teach more about magic," Fen'Harel told him.

"Really?" Felassan brightened at once. What little he had learned from Abelas wasn't nearly enough to help Etha protect their group let alone Fen'Harel.

Fen'Harel bowed his head to Felassan. "It's time to wake up."

* * *

Elven phrases used:  
_Somniari _– Dreamer

* * *

**(Author's Note: **I am guessing that the Imperium took the word _somniari_ from the elves because _somniar_ means "to dream" in elvish.

It is sad what happens to most of these spirits over the next twenty centuries. While Compassion I do imagine looking close to Cole, this one isn't Cole or I should say, isn't the Cole we know and love. Solas states that when a spirit dies, if the idea giving the spirit form is strong enough it could rise again, but I don't think most of them have their memory. Compassion's story though won't be told until later, but I am thinking that it is the past "life" of Cole at this point.

Note: edited.**) **


	20. Chapter 19: Red Hart

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 19: Red Hart

The sun was just peaking over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the world. Solas watched as the light crept up over the golden grass lands stretching out before him. Below him the harts grazed around the rocks surrounding the entrance into the cave they had taken shelter in.

Laughter sounded below.

Solas turned his gaze from the rising sun to see little Atisha racing around the harts. He turned his gaze from her and scanned the rest of the area. There was no sign of Esha anywhere. He turned his gaze back on the child. The sight of her kneeling by one of the outcroppings of rocks digging madly, reminded him of a pup trying to find something new.

The child straightened. She jumped up and down as she clutched something tight in her small fist. Then she raced back towards the cave and the rocks Solas was perched on. The sound of her clambering up to was all too easy to make in the quiet morning.

After several long minutes the girl crawled up to Solas's perch. "_Hahren_!" She beamed up at him. Her young, round face shining almost bright as the morning sun. "Looky what I found." She uncurled her small fingers and held out the small, common crystal to him. "Isn't it pretty?" she asked, eyes wide and shining as she looked up at him.

Warmth sparked in Solas's heart as he looked at the little girl. His fingers wrapped around the half of a wolf's jaw he always wore. This was like the rock the little girl held out to him. Dirthamen and Falon'Din had found it and given it to him when they had been only a little older than Atisha was now.

"It is, _da'len_." He placed his hand on her head. "You have a good eye."

The girl laughed, her pale, almost icy blue eyes shining even brighter at his words. "Really, _hahren_?"

"Really," Solas assured her.

Her smile widened, eyes glittering with her joy at hearing his confirmation.

"Atisha!" The sound of Etha's worried call made Solas look down once more. The warrior had run out of the cave and was looking around for her daughter. "Atisha, where are you?!"

"Mamae!" Atisha shouted down to her.

Etha turned around and her eyes grew wide at the sight of where Atisha was. "Atisha." There was real fear in her eyes. "Be careful." She ran towards the rocks.

Before the warrior could climb up, Solas stood and lifted the little girl up. Careful not to hurt her, he started to climb down. A task made difficult with her in one arm, clinging to him.

Once down he set her on the ground and she raced over to Etha. "Mamae, lookie at what I found!" She held up the crystal to Etha. "_Hahren_ said I have a good eye!" she beamed at this.

"_Hahren_?" Etha asked, sounding confused at this. She then looked at Solas and flushed. "Atisha, that is no way to address Fen'Harel. He's our master."

"It's quite all right, Etha," Solas started and moved over to them. "I would rather be called '_hahren_' over 'master' as it is."

Etha gave him a weak smile. "I guess it is better if we don't call you 'master' given all that's happened as it is." She looked down at Atisha. "And if you prefer it…" she trailed off and let out a long, low breath. "All right, _da'len_, you can call him '_hahren_' if you want."

"Really?" her eyes grew wide. "It okay?" she asked, turning her icy eyes on Solas then to her mother.

"It's more than all right," Solas told her.

The girl's eyes widened. She jumped into the air, shouting in joy. Then raced up to Solad and held out the crystal. "This for you, _hahren_."

Solas knelt down before the girl and took the crystal. "It is beautiful, _da'len_." He smiled at her. "I'll treasure it." He patted her head.

A small giggle came from the girl and she looked very proud of herself.

"About yesterday," the soft voice of Nysa came from cave as she and Felassan exited, "I'm really sorry if what I said offended you."

The boy's violet eyes were narrowed and he wore a small scowl. "Not everyone who's an elf lived as a commoner or better," he growled the words. "And former slaves don't carry the fact they were once slaves around them forever."

Solas let out a long breath. The girl had only been with them for less than a day and was already causing troubles. Yet, there was no denying the fact she had fought alongside them the other day.

He watched the two of them cross over to the harts, Aleron followed further back. The human was eyeing the two elves with an uneasy look. Aleron set to work on getting the three harts ready for travel while Felassan and Nysa spoke. The boy was trying to help Aleron while Nysa kept drawing him away from the task.

Within a few minutes the boy's face was red with a blush. The heat crept up over his pointed ears. It was a rather amusing sight.

Solas turned to Etha. "Ride hard for a half day then stop to rest the harts," he told her. "While I want to cover as much ground as we can, I don't want to risk the harts tearing."

"All right." She nodded. "Are you going to meet us at a certain point?" she asked.

"I'll follow to the side of the group," he told her. If he knew of another landmark which could provide shelter, he would have given a place to meet them at.

"Just far enough so the harts to get skittish and buck us off?"

"Yes," Solas concurred with a bow of his head. "We'll have to rest the harts for a time before riding until nightfall," he continued.

He didn't add that there were a few cities on the way to Arlathan he wanted to get to. The slaves there might just be the army he was looking to build. There was no other way he could match Andruil's power otherwise. Most of the nobles would end up rallying under her, some of the commoners as well, those who thought they could gain from such events. Those others would be left in the dust, the ones unworthy of the eternal heartbeat of the People. And it was those who Solas needed to find and rally together into an army.

A short shout of rage came from the human, drawing Solas from his thoughts. The only red hart of the group snorted in rage, tossing its beautiful head into the air bugling. Aleron backed away, still holding one of the supply bags. It looked as if he had tried to place the bag onto the hart. In doing so he might have done something wrong and thus angered the rare hart.

If Solas remembered correctly red harts would only carry one rider in their life. It was a trust forged between the mount and the rider that was unbreakable. At least that was what Ghilan'nain had told him back when they had been speaking terms. It had been so many centuries since then he had almost forgotten that little tidbit of knowledge.

Perhaps the reason most red harts actually found where used sparingly. Aleron must have taken the hart by mistake or without understanding this.

Nysa pulled the bag from it and snapped something Solas couldn't hear. She then approached the auburn colored hart with costion. The hart eyed her, its brown eyes almost mistrusting. It pawed the ground, breathing as if it was ready to charge. But Nysa managed to get close enough to finish placing the last bag on the hart's back.

Once the harts were ready he group ate a cold breakfast before they made to split again. Before Solas could get more than a few paces from the others, he was stopped by Nysa in his path.

"Can I help you, Huntress?" he asked in light, polite tones.

"Why aren't you riding with us?" she asked. "I mean I get you have the ability to turn into a wolf and all, but shouldn't you ride with your men?"

"Harts don't tend to like wolves near them," Solas stated in reply.

At this Nysa laughed. "It sounds more like you're afraid at failing to ride."

"I know how to ride," Solas stated in even tones. He didn't say more on this and started passed her. He managed to get only a few paces before Nysa was blocking his path again. A small breath escaped Solas.

"Prove it." There was a mischievous smile curling around Nysa's lips.

Solas's felt his jaw tighten. He looked down at the huntress. "To do so would mean trying to calm a hart long enough for me to get on," he pointed out.

"If you've ridden before, that shouldn't be much of an issue."

It appeared she wasn't going to leave him alone until he conceded to try riding later. Solas narrowed his eyes. Yet, in the same instance, to concede to it would prove to her that he was overly prideful.

"Look," she started, "it will appear weird when get to more populated areas to have you appearing and disappearing. That's the only reason why I think you should learn to ride."

His jaw tightened. He knew how to ride! It was just most of the time harts didn't much like the fact a wolf was so close to them. In the same moment, she did have a point. It would appear strange if he just appeared with them during the evenings and breaks but vanished while they rode.

"All right," he conceded. "During the next break."

"See not that hard to admit." She gave him an almost smug smile before she moved away to her own stead.

Solas watched her go. Arrogance! He shook himself. It didn't matter. What mattered was that she seemed more than willing to help them. And they did need a skilled fighter outside of just him and Etha if they had any hopes of starting an army to counter Andruil.

The first half of the day passed quickly. Solas made certain to keep pace with the group, but he stayed far enough away that the harts wouldn't throw their riders or be spooked by him. While he kept close to the group, he also paused from time to time and returned to his natural form. He gathered a few herbs and plaints which would prove enticing to a hart. If he was to ride one later, he would need some method of gaining the hart's trust to even let him near it.

By the time the group stopped the sun was high in the sky. Solas approached them as an elf once more. He stayed away from the harts which seemed tired from the long race from the cave. They grazed close to the group while Aleron and Etha set up a small, smokeless fire for them to get some meal while they rested the mounts.

"We're going to have to hunt soon," Etha muttered. "We're too low on meat."

"How long until we run out completely?" Solas asked when was close enough.

"A day. Two at most," she informed him.

"We can hunt tomorrow," he told her. His gaze flickered over to Nysa. She was saddling the red hart, which was too engrossed in grazing to care she was doing so.

Soon Nysa was leading the hart over to them. It pulled against the reigns as she moved closer to Solas. But she kept a treat out in front of the hart.

"Umm, Nysa, what are you doing?" Felassan asked. He stood and moved away from the red hart. Eyeing the beautiful mount as if he feared it would attack.

"Fen'Harel said he could ride, I want to see it." She smiled at him. "If you can win the favor of the red hart that is."

His lips twitched, but he forced back a scowl. Then he turned his gaze on the hart. The moment his eyes met the soft, warm brown gaze of the hart's, it strained all the harder against the reigns. A bugle came from it, eyes lighting up with fear.

"Release it," he told her, removing his gaze from the hart's.

At this Nysa laughed. "How do you plan to mount him if he's running from you?"

"A red hart is unlikely to just let me mount it as it is," Solas stated. "Release the reigns."

Nysa scowled. Then, she did what he said and backed away from the hart. "Good luck, milord."

This time Solas didn't look into the hart's eyes. He kept his gaze down cast as he moved forward, showing the beast he was no threat to it. The hart pawed the ground with its hoof and gave a soft snort of unease, but it didn't bolt. Careful not to spook the hart, Solas lifted one hand, while reaching into a pouch around his belt with the other. He made certain the others couldn't see the herb he pulled out. But the hart would be able to scent it.

The hart moved in closer. Its steps wary of him, but curious as well. Then he felt the warm breath against his raised hand. Solas moved in the last inch and gave the hart its prize.

"Will you let me ride you?" he whispered to the hart. His fingers ran over its head in soothing strokes.

This time the hart met his gaze and there was no fear there. The treat had earned him enough trust with the hart that he no longer saw a wolf when looking at Solas. Then slowly the hart lowered its massive head in submission to Solas. If he remembered right, it was a sign that he had earned the right to try and ride the hart.

"I don't believe it," Nysa whispered.

Solas kept his hand on the hart as he moved around to the saddle. He would be the first to admit he had never ridden with a saddle before. The last time had been during the war with the Forgotten and he had ridden the hart barebacked more because saddles hadn't been invented yet than any other reason.

Still being careful not to upset the hart, Solas clambered up into the saddle. The motion was far from smooth and more than a little awkward, but he managed it. For a long moment the hart just stood there. Then, at Solas's command, he moved forward.

Solas let out a small breath. There was pride to be found in earning, not only the trust of a red hart, but acceptance as one's rider. The hart moved around the group before he stopped it.

Below, Nysa was gaping, her eyes wide as she stared at him. She wasn't the only one. Etha, Felassan, and Aleron were all gaping at him in shock. The only one who wasn't was little Atisha who was staring confused at the adults.

"I admit," Solas started as he dismounted, "it has been many centuries since I last rode." The hart butted him a little, giving a soft sound that said it wanted another treat.

Solas gave him another. The hart then lowered his head to the ground and started graze again.

"How did you get it to even move close to you?" Nysa demanded. "All of them should feel that you're also a wolf!"

At this Solas smiled. "Now, what would be the fun if told you my secret?" he asked.

This earned him a scowl. "Fine, keep that secret then. You have earned the trust of that hart." She turned on heel and walked over to her own hart. Her hart was a beautiful blue and purple which seemed to shimmer in the light of the sun. It was a more common hart than the reds and far easier to gain the trust of. But it was also harder to train than the reds were.

Solas let out a low breath and closed his eyes. That girl seemed impossible when it came down to many, _many_ things. He opened his eyes and turned his gaze on the red hart. At least he had been able to prove her wrong. The fact he could ride had either destroyed some of her approval with him or added to it. He wasn't really certain and wasn't certain if he should care or not.

* * *

**(Author's Note: **So I got the second volume of World of Thedas today. Thus the red hart part of this story. I thought it was interesting how they would only carry one rider and wish there had been more on harts as a whole, but there wasn't, so I am assuming that this only applies to the red harts and not to all of them.

The cover for this is slowly getting colored. I've been trying a few new techniques with my coloring so it's taking longer. Plus the detail… Anyway, I'll be working on that as well once classes are out.

Also new Dragon Age story up: _Evening Visitor_.**) **


	21. Chapter 20: Tip of War

Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 20: Tip of War

Several days had passed since leaving the village and the ambush behind them. The harts were moving at a walk now more because Solas's skill in the saddle was sourly lacking. If the hart had been barebacked it would have been easier for him but then he couldn't have had the bags on the back of the saddle which would have held them back even more considering most of the bags held supplies.

"At this rate we won't be at the capitol of another year," Nysa grumbled in a quiet voice to Felassan.

"You were the one who wanted him to learn to ride," Etha hissed back.

Solas did his best to ignore both women. In the end Nysa was right in the fact that Solas's lack of skill was going to hold them back. But Etha was also right. Solas kept his back straight and gaze fixed dead ahead. Besides they would be nearing a town soon. There was a chance that the others would stand out because they were sentinels or former slaves. Out of everyone there only he and Nysa would have a chance to go by unnoticed in the town.

That in and of itself held a risk to it. He wasn't certain if she was a follower of Andruil or not. Let alone where her true loyalty lay. While she had been helping them thus far, there was a chance the moment she fully realized what was going on she would turn on them.

By noon the two woman had lapsed into silence, but tension crackled through the air. It was more than apparent even without turning to them, to know they didn't much like one another. This might prove to be an even greater problem than if he should or shouldn't trust Nysa. A matter of him trusting her or not was one thing, a matter of one of his sentinels not trusting her was another entirely.

If Etha didn't trust Nysa the likelihood the plan Solas had in mind for when they got to the next town wouldn't sit well with Etha. The fact that Etha was also from the family who had served Solas the longest worsened matters. Etha would be the first to lay down everything if it meant protecting her "god" and master. Everything, but, perhaps, the life of her daughter. And, yet, her daughter was already bound to his service. A choice made for the little girl before she could even being to understand what that would mean for her future.

Solas took a deep breath and shoved aside those thoughts. It was a matter to think on later. For now he needed to think more on plans to start fulfilling his promise to Dirthamen and his oldest spirit friends. But going about it would be near impossible. There was no telling how far Andruil had spread her influence by now. It didn't help that if he compared himself to her, he was far less popular with the People than she was.

Perhaps he had buried himself there. After all, he had always been the one to act on prayers of the People even if they hadn't agreed with his methods. The prayers in the dreams as they called out to him and he, in turn, had traveled across Elvhenan to follow on those prayers. Most who prayed to him now were slaves or victims or those driven to desperation when the others hadn't answered their prayers.

Most hadn't liked his answer or his method at answering their requests. Still, he wasn't sure that had done him many favors at the end of the day. Most nobles detested him and some commoners would be more than happy to see him go.

Dirthamen had said he would be called the "Dread Wolf" in the future. Perhaps he was already called such. He had to face the fact that most of his methods were far from conventional. At least he tended to reply more than the others had over the years no matter if his methods were different.

After over an hour on the road, the thin dark gray smudge appeared on the horizon. It was the city they were heading towards. Solas pulled his hart to a stop.

"Why are we stopping?" Nysa asked as she stopped beside Solas.

Solas dismounted to let the hart rest and turned to the others. "We're going to have to split up," he told them.

"What?" Etha gaped. "Master, that would be very dangerous."

"It is the only way to go unnoticed in the town ahead," he told her. "Nysa and I will be the only two to head into the town. The rest of you should stay close to the harts."

"Master," Etha started to protest.

Solas held up his hand to stop her. "If the word has already spread that Andruil and I are on the verge of war, we can't risk being made as," – he hesitated – "followers of Fen'Harel."

Beside him, Nysa nodded. "Makes sense. And all of you have three _vallaslin_ of Fen'Harel. You would be made in moments. We could take the _shemlen_ though."

Etha glared at her. For a moment it seemed she would start to shout at the other woman. Instead she turned to Solas and spoke in tones of barely contained anger, "I don't like this plan. But I will go along with it _if_ you take Aleron with you."

The human stumbled when he dismounted and blinked. "Me?" he asked, looking confused. "I barely know how to fight."

"You've learned some since we started traveling," Etha stated with a glance towards him. "And I don't want," – she hesitated – "Solas, heading into the unknown with only one other person."

Solas had to force himself not to scowl. It was her job to see to his safety. Still it was rather annoying for him to be the one guarded when he was also the one who couldn't really die. Granted, if he ran into Andruil that could change. He still didn't understand all of what had happened to Mythal.

"All right, the three of us will head out now." To Etha, Solas added, "We'll try to return before dark."

Etha nodded. Her gaze was troubled. "If you don't return, we'll head in after you."

"No," Solas shot down the idea. "Wait until dawn then if we don't return, take Felassan and Atisha, get as far from here as you can."

There was a long moment in which Etha hesitated. Her gaze shifted from Solas to her daughter who was playing with Felassan right then. A heavy breath escaped her. "I'll do as you say, Master." She looked up into his face. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Solas nodded to her before he turned to Nysa and Aleron. "We'll head in on foot."

The trip to the city took them over an hour. None of them spoke and most of the time they kept a good few paces apart from one another.

"Keep your weapon hidden," Solas instructed Aleron when they got close to the town.

The town was larger than the one which rested at the edge of the wasteland. For the most part it was still in Fen'Harel's "domain," but considering how much of a welcome there had been in the last town, he didn't have high hopes for this one.

For the most part, the three of them went unnoticed when they entered the town. More people walked the streets, some heading for shops or just going about their day to day business.

"So, what's the plan?" Nysa asked.

"We need supplies and information." Solas glanced around the street. There were a few shops close to them which might have what they would need. His gaze was drawn from the shops to the slaves. Most had fresh _vallaslin_ of Andruil. The minority of them had _vallaslin _of others, all but ones which pointed to a master who followed Fen'Harel. His eyes narrowed. This didn't bode well.

"Perhaps we should split up further," Nysa suggested.

Solas looked at her. "Staying together is the wiser course," he stated. Though, split they would be able to cover more ground, he didn't want to risk something happening to either her or Aleron. There were too many here who were loyal to Andruil.

"Fine." Nysa folded her arms cross her chest. Her eyes flashed a little with annoyance. "But I think it's a mistake."

The way she said this made his eyes narrow further. His misgivings towards her stirred once more. Even if keeping her close was a mistake he didn't trust her for a heartbeat.

Solas entered the first shop with the two of them. While Nysa and Aleron gathered the supplies they would need, Solas moved to speak with the store owner. "Do you have the latest news?" he asked.

The store turned to Solas and smiled. "You lot the traveling type, I take it." Her eyes skimmed over Solas's warn clothes to Nysa's nicer leathers. She didn't even bother to look at Aleron. Her gaze flickered back to Solas and she leaned across the counter. "Wars coming," she whispered to him. "Andruil has started to move, even here everyone is being rounded up who won't convert to her or betray Fen'Harel. All the gods are silent, even him."

Solas frowned. While the last few nights he had been more focused on training Felassan, he had been listening for a call to him through the dreams of the People. No one had been.

"How remain loyal to Fen'Harel?" Solas asked.

At this the store own laughed. "If you want to see, head to the main square."

Solas bowed his head to her. "My thanks."

They paid for the supplies before leaving the store.

"Are we going to head for the town square?" Aleron asked.

"Yes." It was the only way left for them to be able to figure what was happening. Even if it was a trap, he needed the information on what Andruil was doing to the people who showed any loyalty to him whatsoever. No matter what she was doing, he couldn't act just yet, not against her, not with so few on his side. Attacking now would be foolish of him.

"Move, filth!" growled a stern voice from the town square. A whip cracked through the air, followed a gasp.

"We didn't do anything wrong!"

Solas moved forward until he could see what was happening. At once he froze. Slaves and commoners alike were being shoved into carriages. Most held bars on the windows and were already packed with people.

"This doesn't look good," Aleron whispered from beside Solas.

Several of the guards forced the people who had been whipped back to their feet. "Get in."

"Why are you doing this?!" screamed one of the captives. "We're not doing anything to harm Andruil."

"You follow Fen'Harel," snarled one of the guards. "That's now a crime against Andruil."

"And all we need to send the lot of you to enslavement camps."

A chill raced through Solas. The camps had to be part of Andruil's plan to filter out those who were "unworthy" of keeping their immortality and those who were worthy. His jaw tightened and nails dug into the soft flesh of his palms. It wasn't their right to decide such things.

"We should get out of here," Aleron whispered, fear lacing his voice.

Solas nodded and backed away from the town center. "Stay calm," he told Aleron and glanced at Nysa. The girl didn't seem the least bit shaken about what they had just seen.

Solas lead them towards the edge of town. The sun would be going down soon and they needed to return to the others. If they could learn where one of the enslavement camps were then they might be able to free those there. It would be a good start to getting an army together in order to stop Andruil and her maddened plan.

Aleron managed to stay calm enough until they were out of the town. "We need to do something!" he started, shaking from head to toe, his eyes wide with fear. "We can't just leave them to Andruil's mercy."

"We will act in due time," Solas stated. "But we can't do anything until we know where the closest encampment is."

"You shouldn't do anything at all!" Nysa argued. "We should get as far from all of this as we can."

Solas gave her an even look. "You're more than welcome to leave, my lady, but I plan on moving forward to face Andruil."

"Andruil has an army," Nysa protested as she followed after him. "What hope do you have stopping her? You're followers have already been rounded up. Even if there was enough of them to match her forces, they're untrained. You would need a miracle to pull off victory."

Solas stopped and turned to her. His gaze locked onto hers. At once she looked away from him. "I will never abandon the People," he stated. "Besides," – he started off down the road once more – "the People who fought alongside us during the war with Forgotten were untrained as well. We still managed to pull off victory. Otherwise we wouldn't be speaking now, _da'len_."

"But you weren't fighting Andruil! Or any of the other creators back then," Nysa protested.

At this Solas couldn't help it, he gave a short bark of laughter. "The Forgotten were considered the creators back then," he pointed out. "They were Gods in view of the People. There is no difference."

Outside of the fact he would be facing this without his family. And the fact that Andruil was a part of that family. He kept this to himself. He had to view this as he had when he, Elgar'nan, and Mythal had started their push against the Forgotten all those centuries ago. No matter if it was against Andruil and he was facing it with only the People this time.

"No one is keeping you with us," Solas continued. "You're free to head off when you please."

The sound of her following still came to Solas. "I—" her voice cracked. "I'm staying no matter what's to come. You'll need me to train archers," she sounded almost sick as she said this.

Solas looked at her over his shoulder. He stopped and bowed his head to her. "Then you will have my eternal gratitude."

A small smile appeared on her face, though it was wary. "We'd best get back to the others and tell them what's happening then."

Aleron shifted. "Does this mean I have to learn the bow as well as the sword?" he asked as they started off.

Nysa snorted. "Creator's no. You've no talent for bows. You barely skill with sword as it is."

"I'm trying," Aleron protested.

Solas smiled to himself at this. It was the truth, Aleron had more of the mentality of a mage. It wouldn't shock Solas if the human woke to such powers late. Though rare for one his age to awaken as a mage, it was still known to happen. Either that or he would just struggle for the rest of his life to find his footing.

"You're back early," Etha greeted them when they returned to the others.

"There's grave news." Solas told them what they had seen in town while Aleron helped pack the supplies they'd bought.

"Enslavement camps?" Etha pulled her daughter to her, eyes wide. "Can Andruil do that?"

"Obviously she can if she's doing it," Nysa pointed out. "Our fearless leader here wants to find the closest one."

A shiver raced through Solas. There was something wrong. He knelt down and threw up a barrier moments before an arrow would have struck their group.

"Ambush!" he shouted. He scopped up Atisha and his bag and raced over to the brush near them. "Stay here, _da'len_," he told her in a stern voice as he placed her into the brush.

She stared up at him, eyes wide. Silent tears streamed down her face. She nodded and clutched the bag to her small body.

Solas hesitated a moment before he turned from her. The group had already been surrounded. He was cut off from them. Solas raced forward.

A flash caught his eye. He skidded, only just dodging a blade. He twisted around, ready to strike. Someone grabbed him from behind. Solas elbowed them.

A gasp fled his attacker but they held fast. "Kill the mage, quickly!" he shouted.

Solas twisted from his attacker's grip. Flames leapt out from his hands. A scream filled the air as his attacker was engulfed in the fire. He whipped around. A barrier erupted before him. A dagger flashed, sliding down the invisible field. The soldier drove forward. The barrier was ripped apart faster than Solas could react.

Blinding pain filled his stomach. A snarl escaped. He lashed out. Fingers tipped with the claws of his wolf form flashed in the light of setting sun. Blood flew up around him. A body collapsed before him.

Solas gasped. The warmth of his own blood contrasted with the cold filling his body. The dagger was embedded in his stomach. He gripped the blade and yanked it out. Blood poured from the wound. The world swam before his eyes. He staggered forward. Now wasn't the time to sleep or heal.

Magic crackled through the air as solas forced himself towards his companions.

"Master!" Felassan shouted as he struggled against the hold of several of their attackers.

Nearby Etha was hammering back three more. More were coming at her from behind.

Solas lifted his hand. The world swayed. His legs buckled. His knees bit into the ground. Blood spilled from his lips. The blade must have struck his stomach as he coughed up blood and vile.

No! Solas forced himself back to his feet. Lightening lanced out. It struck two of the attackers. His vision blurred. Blood trickled from his mouth. Air came to him in short, pained bursts.

Pain lanced through his shoulder. The next thing he knew he was on the ground. Everything spun around him. His ears rang.

"Leave that one," the voice was dim as if it was spoken from a great distance. "He won't last the next few minutes as it is. Take the others to the encampments."

Solas struggled to look up. Only blurred images met his searching gaze. He was aware only of the direction the group was heading in. He gasped, struggling for air as he lifted his shaking hand. He had to fight. He had to protect them.

Sleep pulled at his limbs. His body screamed for the healing sleep.

He closed his eyes. Then forced them back open. He couldn't sleep now! He had to – had to protect them.

The blurred shapes vanished. Solas felt his head fall to the earth.

"_Hahren_?" a soft voice whispered nearby. "_Hahren_, wake up!" a child's cry rang through the air. Small hands pushed his shoulder. Sobs filled the air.

The haunting sound was the last thing Solas heard before the world blanked out.

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**(Author's Note: **I realized that Abelas refers to Fen'Harel as "the Dread Wolf" in _Inquisition_. Now this is either because the writers didn't want to say that he was something else or people in time had already started to refer to Fen'Harel as that. Or he got that from the Dalish. It's up in the air there.

Sorry about the late update. I have been sitting on my hands thinking what to with this chapter for a while now. I had a basic idea going in but nothing solid. And another reason is because I have been moving between my book and another Dragon Age fan-fiction that might not be posted until much later. It's one that will take place during the war with the Forgotten… Yeah.**) **


	22. Chapter 21: Past of Black Night

**I am begging people to please review this story, even if it's just a short review at the end of the chapter. Reviews mean more than you guys know. They help me know people are interested in the story and are reading it. Thank you. **

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Dragon Age: Final Hour  
Chapter 21: Past of Black Night

*~ The Past ~*

Fen'Harel finished mixing the paint and turned to the wall before him. Over the years the plastered walls had proven the best ones to paint. Most of the paintings lining the walls were done on many different types of stone and mixes. Most had degraded to the point he had to draw them down again just to remember what they had been about.

One day he would have a hall to paint all the ones he liked in order. The images could then flow together. A small smile appeared on his face at this thought.

"A smile? I've not seen one for years now. Not from you."

Fen'Harel scowled and lowered his paint stained fingers. "What is it now, Sylaise?" he asked. "Am I not supposed to be up here?" He gestured to the wooden structure he was on.

"Well, no, you're supposed to be resting," she said in soft tones. "But I figured I would end up injuring you further if I tried to wrestle into a bed. Especially when you're in one of these moods."

"I'm not in a mood!" he snapped, bristling at her words.

"Right. Your wolf ears tell a different story." A soft laugh came from her.

Heat rose in his face. He shifted back into his full elven form.

"You're too much like Elgar'nan," Sylaise continued. Her eyes shone. "Whenever you're greatly upset, you shift into a wolf."

"I'm nothing like Elgar'nan." That was insulting. Fen'Harel turned his back on her and started draw his fingers over the wall.

"You have a short temper, Fen'Harel." The sound of her coming up the larder followed.

Fen'Harel pause in his painting.

"Other than that, you two are very different. I can more than agree there." She settled beside him on the thin platform.

Fen'Harel grunted. The rough parts of the plaster moved under his fingers as he started to fill in the image once more. The image was rough. It showed a mass of black moving towards three lights or so his rough drawing depicted. He still had yet to get a true color to mimic the lights which seemed to dwell within in them.

"You're paintings get darker each time I see them," Sylaise spoke in sad tones. "Is it really how you see the world?"

Paint dripped from Fen'Harel's raised fingers. He stared at the black staining his fingertips then the black he had been spreading across the wall. His hand fell to rest beside the paints he had mixed. Most of them were dark tones. A small breath escaped him.

"I guess it is," he confessed.

Sylaise's hand was warm against his. "I forget you've been fighting for centuries longer than I have. And that the world you were raised in was one of darkness and pain before you, Elgar'nan, and Mythal started to fight back."

"It's not all bad," he stated. "Besides, we're making good headway now with eight of us. And with the fact some of the People are helping now."

"True."

A cough sounded from below. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" a cool voice asked.

Fen'Harel slipped his hand from under hers. He looked down to see June grinning up at them. Dried blood and mud caked most of June's battle warn armor. His helm was tucked under one arm. His hazel eyes glittered with amusement.

"I would say you two make a cute couple, but it would break Andruil's heart to see Sylaise with you, Fen'Harel."

"It's not like that!" Sylaise snapped. Her entire face had gone bright red.

A scowl pulled at Fen'Harel's lips. "Why are you here, June?"

This made the smile melt from June's face. "It's Andruil," he started.

"Was she injured?" Sylaise asked.

"I don't know if she is or not," June confessed. "She's not returned from the Abyss."

Not returned? Fen'Harel felt his blood turn to ice. There was no telling what the full side effects were of being in the Abyss for too long. If it was longer than the few hours they had been there to fight— He didn't know what would happen. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps he was wrong in assuming something was different about their realm.

"How long?" he asked. He forced his voice to stay calm. This was only made possible by getting the paint off his fingers.

"Since the time we left," June told them. "I think it's been just over two days."

Sylaise gasped. Her hands over her mouth as she stared down at June.

It felt as if the cave would crumble at any moment. Over two days? "We have to go after her." He slid down the ladder, not waiting for a response from Sylaise. "There's no telling what being in the Abyss for so long will do to her." Or to anyone.

"Fen'Harel." Sylaise landed beside him. "You're still healing." The words were halfhearted. Worry clouded her soft gaze. A worry for her sister rather than for Fen'Harel's health.

June clapped Fen'Harel's shoulder. He gave Sylaise a small smile. "Don't worry, I'll make certain the Rebel Wolf doesn't overdue it."

"Elgar'nan ordered—" she cute off and sighed. "You're most likely going against his orders as it is. Otherwise you wouldn't have come here. Right?" she asked her brother.

"Shush," – June held a finger over his lips – "that's a secret."

Fen'Harel ignored this. "We need to get going. The longer she's in the Abyss…" he trailed off.

"Agreed." June hurried after Fen'Harel.

"Fen'Harel!" Sylaise called.

Fen'Harel stopped. He turned to her. It was unlikely she was calling him back. Not with so much at stake here. There was no way Sylaise would ever risk losing her sister even for the health of one of the ones.

"Please, bring her back safely."

Fen'Harel bowed his head to her. "We will."

It didn't take Fen'Harel and June long to enter the Fade. What took the longest was sneaking around both the forces of the People amassed by Elgar'nan and Mythal, and those of the "gods."

"We could've just headed through our forces," June grumbled after over an hour of avoiding both groups. "We're more likely to find a demon than the Abyss at this rate."

"Be patient," Fen'Harel hissed back to him. "We'll get there."

And this way they wouldn't have Elgar'nan trying to stop them. He knew both Elgar'nan and Mythal wouldn't approve of this mission. Perhaps if the People could enter the Abyss, Elgar'nan would have considered a rescue mission a good idea. But only the eight of them could without turning to the other side.

"We're at the edge of their territory," June whispered.

Fen'Harel paused and looked around. The shifting, corrupt shadows of the Abyss hung high over them. Deep within the shadows rested the Corrupt City. Then higher up was the actual Abyss. The shadows marked an increase in territory since the last time Fen'Harel had been here.

"They've been pushing us back since you've left the front." June's breath was warm on Fen'Harel's ear. "But Elgar'nan wanted you to find their weakness and heal before you returned."

"It hasn't been that long," Fen'Harel whispered back. "How has Elgar'nan lost _this_ much ground?"

"Some really dumb mistakes?" There was more question to June's voice than certainty. "You're our strategist. Elgar'nan's just our leader."

Fen'Harel curled his lip. Of course, it had to be Elgar'nan's temper that was costing them now. Mythal needed to get her lover reigned in before it cost them much more ground. Or Fen'Harel had to return to the front and hit his "brother" upside the head. Granted, all that would do was start a fight between the two of them.

A small, tense breath escaped Fen'Harel. He'd deal with Elgar'nan and this mess later. Right then, Andruil needed them far more than the war front.

"Are you coming with?" Fen'Harel didn't look at June. "If you do, you know what Elgar'nan will think."

"He can think and glower all he wants," June replied, his voice gruff. "I'm going in after my sister even if you don't want me to follow." The sound of his hammer scrapping the rock followed his words.

Fen'Harel glanced at the younger elf.

June was tense, one hand rested on the great shaft of his two handed weapon. His eyes narrowed, flashing with determination. "I'm ready when you are." His face twisted into a grim smile.

Fen'Harel didn't want to argue with him over this. Having June along would make the task of finding Andruil all the easier. Thus, they would spend less time in the Abyss.

Fen'Harel nodded before he straightened. "We're going to sneak into the Abyss. Try to be quiet." He glanced at June.

The two of them raced across the landscape and leapt. Air rushed passed Fen'Harel before his bare feet hit a "wall." He raced along it as it become the ground rather than where they had been before. His heart felt light. Blood racing with excitement. There was just something about being in the Fade physically which made him feel more alive. Here, he was free!

All too soon the feeling of joy melted from Fen'Harel's heart. The shadows of the Abyss had swallowed him. He stopped within the darkness. The air felt thick against his skin. It took his eyes a long moment to adjust to the darkness. Each breath drawn in was corrupt and foul. The taste and smell of it foul on his tongue and nose.

"Thanks for waiting," June panted as he stopped beside Fen'Harel. Sarcasm dripped from every word.

"Stay quiet."

Fen'Harel edged forward through the darkness. The sound of their feet against the freezing stone lingered in the air, soft and haunting. A soft whispering grew the further they went. It wasn't one from around them. The voice echoed deep in Fen'Harel's mind. A haunting tune followed, weaving a melody around his heart and mind. The song tore deep into his every being. It called to him. The melody urged him to head for the very heart of the Abyss.

Time passed as the two of them moved through the shadows. The corrupted air pulled at Fen'Harel's lungs with each breath. His ears rang with the haunting tune.

"Ahead?" June whispered.

The sound of his voice made Fen'Harel pause. The hair on the back of his neck raised. Just ahead, soft rays of light broke through the darkness. The shafts were thin almost weak; yet, the color was familiar. The warm brown light was that of Andruil.

June moved passed Fen'Harel. One hand rested on the hilt of his hammer. The look on his face was enough to tell Fen'Harel what June was planning. The younger elf wanted to charge in after his sister.

Fen'Harel caught June's wrist. "Wait," he hissed.

"What?" June glared at Fen'Harel. "She's just ahead. I'm not leaving her here another second."

"It's too easy." The light screamed trap. Andruil was the bait. Fen'Harel and June were the prized beats just waiting to stumble in to take a bite of the forbidden fruit. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to run from the light back into the darkness.

"Are you mad?" Jun demanded. Despite the boy's rage, his voice remained soft. "We can't just leave her."

"We don't know that's her."

"It has to be."

"Hush." Fen'Harel gestured to where there was movement through the darkness. He pulled June down behind an outcropping of rock.

June tensed beside Fen'Harel. His eyes locked on the shadows of the Abyss as if he hoped to make out whatever was moving towards them.

The light grew with each moment the figures drew closer. There were too many for it to be just Andruil. The light filled the space around them. Fen'Harel squeezed his eyes shut. It took him a moment to be able to open his eyes a slit.

Andruil was being supported between two ghouls. Their sunken skin and hollow gazes pointed to them being thralls of the "Gods." Once both of them had pointed ears. The ears had shriveled towards their skulls. Fog had settled in their eyes until only the song could guide them. They were no longer of the People.

"Ghouls," June growled under his breath. He shifted. His hand twitched towards the hilt of his hammer.

"They're taking her to the heart of the Abyss," Fen'Harel whispered. His eyes narrowed in thought. That might just be the way into the heart of this corrupted plane.

"They won't get there."

Before Fen'Harel could move, June leapt from their hiding place. His hammered thrummed through the air. Sparks flew as it slammed into the plate of one ghoul's armor.

More ghouls appeared through the shadows. The trap had been sprung.

"_Fenedhis lasa_," Fen'Harel spat the curse.

June couldn't have just waited a few seconds before acting. No! He had leap into combat head first! This left them but one choice.

Flashes light the darkness. Lightening raced down and struck three of the ghouls. Fen'Harel twisted his hands through the thick air. He pulled on the energies of the Fade forming a ball of flame. The fire raced through ghouls. It was weak. Too weak to do much more than send one stumbling back a few paces.

"June!" Fen'Harel called as he raced out of the cover. "Get Andruil and get out of here!"

To fight here was hard enough in battles they picked. When caught like this – it was impossible for Fen'Harel to do more than be a nescience to the ghouls.

Then there was something else. Each time he drew on the primal energies of the Fade, it was harder. Almost as if one of the three were nearing. If this was so, then there would be no way out.

Fen'Harel rushed to June's side. Ice trailed after him before lancing out towards the ghouls. "Go!"

The wild light of battle had left June's face. He glanced at Fen'Harel then at his sister.

Andruil lay crumpled on the ground. Signs of corruption had snaked through her veins.

"I'm not leaving you here either," June countered.

"There's no time. Go!"

Fen'Harel warped the pieces of the Fade which leaked into this realm. The energy blasted June and Andruil away from the closing ranks of the ghouls. A slight nod came from June. June grabbed his sister. The two of them vanished in the darkness.

Fire and lightening flashed through air. Each blast light the darkness. Ghouls fell only to be replaced by more. Fen'Harel backed away. Ice crackled down his fingers.

The song echoed around him, _in_ him. Fen'Harel shook his head. It was hard to breath. The air as water drawn to his lungs. Each breath grasped him.

He bolted. The darkness pressed on Fen'Harel from all sides. The song ripped deeper echoing the sound of the ghouls behind him. He had to escape. It was too long. Too much. The air pulled at him. The song lulled his mind and dulled his wit. No! He had to run. He _had_ to escape.

Fen'Harel burst from the darkness. The dim light of the Fade washed over. He stuck ground. His breathing eased. The fear which had gripped him eased with each breath. It took him a long while to be able to stand let alone look around.

To his relief he could see June nearby. Andruil was slung over his shoulders. The younger man was looking up at Solas, a small, weak smile on his face.

"You made it." June's smile grew to a grin. "Let's head home."

Home. Fen'Harel felt weak with relief at the mention of the cave system. Right then he could sleep for a year if not longer.

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Elven phrases used:  
_Fenedhis lasa _– common curse

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**(Author's Note: **Flashbacks are going to be further apart than they used to be. The next time we will be in the past is a good three chapters away from this one.

**Guys, check out the story being written by HerenyaHope and me: **_**Fates Entwined**_**. It's being posted and updated on HerenyaHope's account**.

Final note: I did reedit my notes on this book. I am now down to thirty-nine chapters (including prologue). I realized a while ago that the forty-six chapters it was resting out was too long and many of the chapters were filler. Thus, I went through and deleted the chapters that would be too short or had no plans for them yet filled in.

Thank you for reading the chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed it.**) **


	23. Notice

Hi,

After playing Trespasser a lot of my ideas were shot down (and some were proven correct). In light of what was revealed in that DLC I am scrapping this story and moving to another one still called _Final Hour_ because the title suits it.

This isn't because this story was bad or anything like that, it's more because I love what was revealed in the DLC a lot more than my plans for it. I am still writing Fates Entwined with HerenyaHope and the story will still pull from this version of Final Hour which is one of the two reasons I am keeping this story up. The other is reviews for the most part.

I will see some of you (if not all) on the new _Final Hour_!

~Flame


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